
^^m i\ 















V.^^ 
.•^^p. 










♦ o i o ' ^^ 

















^:p<i- 






















General Editor 

LINDSAY TODD DAMON, A.B. 

Professor of English in Brown University 



ADDISON — The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers — Abbott 36c 

ADDISON AND STEELE— 5eZec«07is from The Taller and The Spec- 
tator ABBOTT 40c 

Mneid of Virgil — Allinson 44c 

BROWNING — Selected Poems — Reynolds. 44c 

BUNY AN — The Pilgrim's Progress — Latham 36c 

BURKE — Speech on Conciliation with America — Dennet 36c 

C ARLYLE — Essay on Burns — Aiton 28c 

CHAUCER — Selections — Greenlaw 40c 

COLERIDGE — The Ancient Mariner ) 

LOWELL— Fision of Sir Launfal ] ^ vol.— Moody 28c 

COOPER — The Last of the Mohicans — Lewis 44c 

COOPER — The Spy — Damon 44c 

DANA — Two Years Before the Mast — Westcott 52c 

DEFOE — Robinson Crusoe — Hastings 40c 

Democracy Today — Gauss 48c 

DE OUINCEY — Joan of Arc and Selections— Moody 32c 

DE OUINCEY — The Flight of a Tartar Tribe — French 28c 

DICKENS— A Christmas Carol, etc. — Broadtjs 40c 

DICKENS — A Tale of Two Cities — Baldwin , 52c 

DICKENS — David Copperfield — Baldwin 52c 

DRYDEN — Palamon and Arcite — Cook 28c 

EMEKSON— Essays and Addresses — Heydrick 40c 

English Poems — From Pope, Gray, Goldsmith, Coleridge, Byron, 
Macaulay,- Arnold, and others — Scudder .' 52c 

English Popular Ballads — Hart 44c 

Essays — English and American — Alden 48c 

Familiar Letters — Greenlaw 40c 

FRANKLIN — Autobiography — Griffin 36c 

French Short Stories — Schweikert 40c 

GASKELL (Mrs.) — Cranford — Hancock 40c 

GEORGE ELIOT — Silas Marner — Hancock 40c 

GEORGE EEIOT— The Mill on the Floss — Ward 52c 

GOLDSMITH— rTze Vicar of Wakefield — Morton 36c 

HAWTHORNE — The House of the Seven Ga&Zes— Herrick 44c 

HAWTHORNE — Twice-Told Tales — Herrick and Brxjere 52c 

HUGHES— To7n Brown's School Days — de Mille 44c 

IRVING — Life of Goldsmith — Krapp 44c 

IRVING— r;?e Sketch Book — Krapp 44c 

IRVING — Tales of a Traveller — and parts of The Sketch Book — Krapp 52c 



Wi}e Slake lEttJ^lisll ffilaSStrfi-rnntmurU 

LAMB — Essays of Elia — Benedict 40c 

LONGFELLOW — Nanalive Poems — Powell 44c 

LOWELL — Vision of Sir Launfal — See Coleridge. 

MACAULAY — Essays on Addison and Johnson — Newcomer 40c 

MAC AULA Y — Essays 07i Clive and Hastings — Newcomer 40c 

MACAULAY — Goldsmith, Frederic the Great, Madame D'Arblay — New- 
comer 40c 

MACAULAY — Essays on Milton and Addison — Newcomer 40c 

MILTON — L' Allegro, II Penseroso, Comvs, and Lycidas — Neilson. . . . 32c 

MILTON — Paradise Lost, Books I and II — Farley 32c 

Old Testament Narratives — Rhodes 44c 

One Hundred Narrative Poems — Teter 48c 

PALGRAVE — Golden Treasury — Newcomer 48c 

PARKMAN — The Oregon Trail — Macdonald 44c 

POE — Poems and Tales, Selected — Newcomer 40c 

VOVE— Homer's Iliad, Books I, VI, XXII. XXIV— Cressy and Moody 32c 

READE — The Cloister and The Hearth — de Mille 52c 

RUSKIN — Sesame and Lilies — Linn 2Sc 

Russian Short Stories — SCHWEIKERT 44c 

SCOTT — Ivanhoe — Simonds 52c 

SCOTT — Quentin Durward — Simonds 52c 

SCOTT — Lady of the Late — Moody 40c 

SCOTT— Lay of the Last Minstrel — Moody and Willard 30c 

SCOTT — Marmion — Moody and Willard 40c 

SHAKSPERE — The Neilson Edition — Edited by W. A. Neilson, each 32c 

As You Like It Macbeth 

Hamlet Midsummer-Night' s Dream 

Henry V Romeo and Juliet 

Julius Caesar The Tempest 

Twelfth Night 

SHAKSPERE — Merchant of Venice — Lovett 32c 

SOUTHEY — Life of Nelson — Westcott 40c 

STEVENSON — Inland Voyage and Travels with a Donkey — Leonard. 36c 

STEVENSON — Kidnapped — Leonard 36c 

STEVENSON — Treasure Island — Broadus 36c 

TENNYSON — Selected Poems — Reynolds 44c 

TENNYSON — The Princess — Copeland . 28c 

THOREAU — Walden — Bowman 44c 

THACKERAY — Henry Esmond — Phelps 60c 

THACKERAY — English Humorists — Cunliffe and Watt 36c 

Three American Poems — The Raven, Snou-Bound, Miles Standish — 
Greever 32c 

Types of the Short Story — Heydrick 40c 

Washington, Webster, Lincoln — Denney 36c 

SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY 

CHICAGO: 623 S.Wabash Ave. NEW YORK: 8 East 34th Street 



^iit %akt Cnglisifj Classics 



REVISED EDITION WITH HELPS TO STUDY 



THE OREGON TRAIL 



SKETCHES OF PRAIRIE AND 
ROCKY MOUNTAIN LIFE 



BY 

FRANCIS PARKMAN 

ti 



EDITED FOR SCHOOL USE 
BY 

WILLIAM MACDONALD 

PROFESSOR AMERICAN HISTORY, BROWN UNIVERSITY' 



SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY 
CHICAGO NEW YORK 



FS 



Copyright 1911, 1919 
By Scott, Foresman and Company 



JUL -t:) rJl9 



ROBERT O. LAW COMPANY 

EDITION BOOK MANUFACTURERS 
CHICAGO. US A. 

©CI.A530181 



^:>^ 

•^ 

^ 




PREFACE 

The text here used is that of the first edition, but with 
modernized spelling and punctuation. The spelling of Indian 
proper names has been changed, where necessary, to con- 
form to the present usage; and the form Deslauriers has been 
substituted for the old form Delorier. The poetical extracts 
which preceded the several chapters, and two or three unsuit- 
able passages in the text, have been omitted. With these 
exceptions, the original text has been followed exactly. The 
notes are limited to the explanation of difficulties not easily 
to be resolved by the aid of a dictionary or encyclopaedia. 

Brown University, 
January, 1911, 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface 5 

Introduction 9 

Bibliography 18 

Author's Preface to the First Edition 19 

CHAPTER page 

I. The Frontier. 20 

II. Breaking the Ice 29 

III. Fort Leavenworth 40 

IV. ''Jumping Off" 44 

V. The "Big Blue" 55 

VI. The Platte and the Desert 74 

VII. The Buffalo 88 

VIII. Taking French Leave 105 

IX. Scenes at Fort Laramie ». . 122 

X. The War Parties .138. 

XI. Scenes at the Camp 161 

XII. Ill Luck 182; 

XIII. Hunting Indians ' 190 

XIV. The Ogallala Village 215 

XV. The Hunting Camp 236 

XVI. The Trappers 260 

XVII. The Black Hills 270 

7 



8 Contents 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XVIII. A Mountain Hunt 275 

XIX. Passage of the Mountains 287 

XX. The Lonely Journey 305 

XXL The Pueblo and Bent's Fort 327 

XXII. Tete Rouge, the Volunteer 335 

XXIII. Indian Alarms 340 

XXIV. The Chase .352 

XXV. The Buffalo Camp 362 

XXVI. Down the Arkansas 378 

XXVII. The Settlements 396 

Appendix 

Helps to Study . .407 

Theme Subjects 409 

Selections for Class Reading 410 

Chronological Table 411 



INTRODUCTION 

Francis Parkman was born in Boston, September 16, 
1823. He was of English ancestry, and on his mother's 
side could trace his descent from John Cotton, the famous 
Puritan divine, who came to Massachusetts in 1633. His 
father w^as a well-known and highly respected Unitarian 
minister. 

When he was eight years old the boy went to live with 
his grandfather on the border of Middlesex Fells, a wild 
tract of broken, picturesque country, about four thousand 
acres in extent, near Boston. Here for four years he was 
able to gratify the love for outdoor life which seems to have 
been inherent with him, and which later was to be shown so 
markedly in his books. He prepared for Harvard College 
at a private school in Boston, and graduated in 1844, after 
a creditable but not brilliant course. For the next two years 
he was a student at the Harvard Law School, but he had 
no taste for the law, and never practiced. 

Before the end of his sophomore j^ear in college Parkman 
had definitely formed a plan of writing the history of the 
French in America; and to the execution of this great task, 
the performance of which he estimated would take twenty 
years, his thought and energy were henceforth mainly bent. 
All the books on the subject to which he could get access 
were eagerly read. One of his summer vacations was spent 
in exploring the headwaters of the Magalloway river in 
Maine; another was passed in the region of Lake George 
and Lake Champlain, where he studied the topography of 
the country, examined battle-fields of the French and Indian 
wars, and gathered stories and traditions from old settlers. 



10 The Oregon Trail 

A slight accident, necessitating a brief interruption of college 
studies, became also the occasion of his first trip to Europe. 

The journej' which forms the subject of the Oregon Trail 
was made immediately upon the completion of his law" 
studies. He had already, the previous j^ar, visited what 
Vsas then "the West," going as far south as St. Louis and 
as far north as Mackinaw and Sault St. Marie, besides visitT 
ing Niagara, Detroit, and other places associated with the 
early French occupation. What he needed, however, as the 
foundation of his great historical undertaking, was an inti- 
m.ate and first-hand acquaintance with Indian life; and such 
acquaintance was to be had in that day, by any one who had 
the courage to seek it, in almost any part of the country 
west of the Mississippi. 

In order to understand Parkm.an's journey and its sig- 
nificance, it is necessary to recall the geography of the coun- 
try in 1846. The western boundary of the United States 
was still the western limit of the Louisiana purchase of 1803, 
namely, the summit or watershed of the Rocky Mountains. 
The northern boundary, the forty-ninth parallel, as far as 
the Rockies, had been fixed by treaty with Great Britain 
only as late as 1842; while the treaty of 1846, extending 
the same line w^estward and confirming the claim of the 
United States to Oregon, was not signed until June 15, 
at which time Parkman and his companions were on their 
way. War with Mexico, which was to carry the boundary 
of the United States to the Pacific, was declared on May 13 
of the same j-ear. 

North and w^est of Missouri and Iowa, none of the states 
which now occupy this great region had yet been formed. 
The Territory of Wisconsin, organized in 1836, included 
within its limits most of the country between the Great Lakes 
and the Missouri river, north of Iowa; and Iowa had been 
admitted as a state only about a year before Parkman's 
journey began. With the exception of Indian traders, mis- 



Introduction il 

slonaries, and soldiers, there were no white inhabitants, for 
no part of the country had as yet been opened to settlement. 
From what is now Oklahoma to the British possessions, 
tribes of savage Indians roamed at will, hunting the buffalo 
and antelope that were to be found in countless multitudes 
on the prairies, fighting bloody battles with one another as 
their ancestors had done for generations, and kept in nominal 
subjection only by United States troops. The fertility of 
the soil was hardly dreamed of, and much of the country 
where agriculture and cattle-raising now flourish appears on 
maps of the time as the "Great American Desert." 

From the Missouri river two great overland routes gave 
access to the interior and to the Pacific. One, the Santa Fe 
trail, followed a fairly direct course from Independence, 
Missouri, at the junction of the Kansas and Missouri rivers, 
to the neighborhood of Dodge City, Kansas ; there it divided, 
one branch continuing up the Arkansas river to Bent's 
Fort, Colorado (see page 332), and thence south to the 
neighborhood of Las Vegas, New Mexico, and on to Santa 
Fe, the other crossing the Arkansas and proceeding to Las 
Vegas direct. The second, the Oregon trail, with branches 
from Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, and St. Joseph, Missouri, 
ran northwest across Kansas and Nebraska to Fort Laramie, 
Wyoming, and thence through the mountains to the valley 
of the Columbia river. Both w^ere wagon routes, and the 
former carried for many j'ears a large and valuable overland 
trade with northern Mexico and southern California; while 
the latter, first shown about 1832 to be practicable for 
wagons, was the route commonly followed by emigrants who 
did not prefer to go to Oregon by sea. 

A prairie "trail" was not, of course, a regularly laid out 
or carefully built roadway, but a track, or series of tracks, 
worn deep into the sod of the unbroken prairie by the wheels 
of emigrant wagons, or "prairie schooners," or trampled by 
the feet of horses and cattle. It kept as much as possible 



12 The Oregon Trail 

on high ground, crossing streams only when necessary, and 
then at good fording places. Save along the streams, the 
country was bare of timber, but the tall prairie grass afforded 
abundant forage for animals. An overland journey, filled 
as it was certain to be with picturesque incidents and thrilling 
adventure, was nevertheless slow, tedious, laborious, and dan- 
gerous; for in addition to the constant likelihood of Indian 
attacks, there was the ever-present danger of death from 
starvation, sickness, or exhaustion. Few large parties crossed 
the plains without leaving some of their number in lonely 
graves by the roadside. 

Parkman's journey occupied about five months. Leaving 
Boston in April, 1846, in company with a relative, Quincy 
Adams Shaw^, he went first to St. Louis, the trip by railroad, 
steamboat, and stage requiring about two weeks. Here they 
secured the services of two guides and procured their outfit, 
including in the latter a supply of presents for the Indians. 
Eight days on a river steamboat brought them to Inde- 
pendence, where the land journey really began. From this 
rough frontier town their route took them first to Fort 
Leavenworth, the principal military post on the Missouri 
river, and thence by the Big Blue and Platte rivers to Fort 
Laramie. Here Shaw, who was ill, remained, w^hile Park- 
man, who greatly desired to see the Indian at war, pushed 
on until he overtook a party of Ogillallah bound for the 
Black Hills to hunt buffalo, and, it was thought, almost 
certain to be attacked by hostile Arapahoes or Crows. To 
venture thus upon an expedition in which he risked his' 
life, and at a time, too, when he was himself so ill as hardly 
to be able to ride his horse, testifies to extraordinary courage 
and strength of will. 

Fortunately there was no fighting, although, as this part 
of the narrative shows, there was adventure in abundance. 
Returning in safety to Fort Laramie, the party went south 
through Colorado, passing Pike's Peak, to a point near the 



Introduction 13 

Mexican border, where they met United States volunteers 
bound for the seat of war. Thence they continued north- 
eastward to Independence, by steamboat to St. Louis, and 
back to Boston. 

The story of the expedition, dictated to Shaw at Brattlc- 
boro, Vermont, was first published In the Knickerbocker 
Magazine, In 1847, under the title The Oregon Trail. In 
1849 It appeared In book form, the author having the aid 
of Charles Eliot Norton In preparing the proofs for the 
press. The original title of the book was The California 
and Oregon Trail:' being sketches of Prairie and Rocky 
Mountain Life. In the fourth and later editions the title 
was changed to The Oregon Trail: sketches of Prairie and 
Rocky Alountain Life. 

Parkm.an was now ready for the great work which was 
to give him a place In the front rank of American historians. 
The physical difficulties with which he had to contend were 
so serious as to have defeated a will less strong than his ; 
and the courage, fortitude, and cheerfulness with w^hlch he 
met and conquered them make the story of his life one of the 
most heroic In the annals of literature. In his fragmentary 
Autobiography he tells us that his childhood was "neither 
healthful or buoyant" ; and a boyish enthusiasm for chem- 
istry seems to have injured rather than helped him. At col- 
lege he sought to overcome his physical weakness, and to 
prepare himself for the outdoor life which he adjudged neces- 
sary for his work, by long walks at a rapid pace, vigorous 
horseback riding, and severe exercise in the gymnasium ; and 
on his vacation trips he delighted in strenuous exertion and 
reckless exposure. It has often been said that the hardships 
of the Oregon journey, attended as it was with sickness and 
lack of proper food, ruined his constitution ; but It seems 
more probable that the experience only aggravated and made 
permanent a constitutional weakness already well established. 

Whatever the cause, there presently developed a serious 



14 The Oregon Trail 

affection of the eyes, followed in 1851 by an attack of water 
on the knee which kept him in close confinement for two 
years, and left him permanently lame. Naturally of a nerv- 
ous temperament, his physical sufferings caused the irritability 
of his sj'stem, as he said, to centre in the head, inducing 
violent pains and a feeling of compression which, in connec- 
tion with the weakness of the eyes, permanently incapacitated 
him for prolonged application to books. He was rarely able 
to read or WTite more than a few minutes at a time, and was 
frequently compelled to abandon all work for months. "He 
never saw a perfectly w^ell day during his entire literary 
career." For a time he could write only by aid of a frame 
strung with wires, but from this he was presently emanci- 
pated, though he remained under the necessity of depending 
upon assistants and copyists, many of his readers being pupils 
from the public schools. 

It was with this enormous drawback of physical weak- 
ness that Parkman began and carried through his historical 
work. The first installment, The Conspiracy of Pontiac, 
appeared in 1851. Then followed an interval of fourteen 
years before the publication of the next part. Pioneers of 
France in the New World. The remaining volumes fol- 
lowed more rapidly. In chronological order of subjects, 
which is not the order of publication, the successive vol- 
umes, bearing as a series the title France and England in 
North America, stand as follows: Pioneers of France in the 
New World; The Jesuits in North America; LaSalle and 
the Discovery of the Great West; The Old Regime in Can- 
ada; Frontenac and Neiu France; A Half Century of Con- 
flict; Montcalm and Wolfe; The Conspiracy of Pontiac. 

In the preparation of these volumes, Parkman had the 
archives of Europe and America searched for documents, 
many of which up to that time still remained in manuscript. 
In addition, he himself made four journeys to Europe m 
quest of material, besides personally visiting nearly every 



Introduction 15 

place of importance in the United States and Canada with 
which his story had to do. At his death he left his collection 
of manuscripts to the Massachusetts Historical Society, and 
his books to Harvard University. 

Parkman did little miscellaneous writing. An entertain- 
ing account of his adventures on the Magalloway appeared^ 
in Harper s Magazine for November, 1864; and later, after 
his reputation as an historian was established, he wrote a 
few articles and reviews for periodicals. A novel, Vassal! 
Morton, was published in 1856. A fragment of an auto- 
biography was printed shortly after his death in the Pro- 
ceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Societj^ of which 
he was for some years vice-president. 

Parkman married in 1850 Catherine ScoUay Bigelow, 
daughter of Dr. Jacob Bigelow, a famous Boston physician. 
His wife died in 1858. During the larger part of his life 
he regularly passed the winter in Boston and the summer in 
Jam.aica Plain, then a suburb but now a part of the city. 
At his pleasant summ.er home on the shore of Jamaica Pond 
he devoted his leisure to gardening, winning special fame for 
his roses, of which a particularly beautiful variety, the lilium 
Parkmanni, bears his name. A Book of Roses, published 
by him in 1866, long had high repute among horticulturists. 
He was for several years president of the Massachusetts 
Horticultural Society, and for a short time held the pro- 
fessorship of horticulture in the Bussey Institute, a depart- 
-^nent of Harvard University. 

Parkman was "rather above middle height, slender and 
cinewy, with a thin but agreeable and thoughtful face, and 
engaging m.anners." His ph^^sical infirmities made it impos- 
sible for him to mingle much in society or even to see niuch 
of his friends, but his friendships were warm and enduring, 
and his garden at Jamaica Plain was always open to visitors. 
Towards life, whether his own or others', his prevailing atti- 
tude was cheerful and buoyant, with no trace of melancholy 



16 The Oregon Trail 

or disappointment. He was the first president of the St. 
Botolph Club, one of the leading social and literary clubs 
of Boston, and was honored with membership in numerous 
learned societies and with degrees from American and for- 
eign universities. He died at Jamaica Plain, November 8, 
1893, and was buried at Mt. Auburn. 

Notwithstanding that the Oregon Trail is the work of 
a young man fresh from college, it shows clearly some of 
the qualities which give greatness to Parkman's work as an 
historian and wTiter. The language is clear, forcible, and 
picturesque, and at the same time easy and natural. The 
description of scenery, adventure, or hardship, while graphic 
and even at times, perhaps, over-elaborated, is always truth- 
ful, and plainly rests upon personal experience. Moreover, 
though the author has much to tell, he neither overweights 
the narrative with details nor directs attention prominently 
to himself ; on the contrary, he keeps constantly in view the 
main course of the action he is describing, and in the accounts 
of his own participation exhibits notable modesty and 
restraint. 

With regard to the Indian, Parkman Is under no illusion. 
He does not, like Cooper, create an essentially Imaginary red 
man equipped with attractive and heroic qualities; nor does 
he, like some later writers who have seen the Indian only 
at his worst, go to the other extreme and picture him as 
merely a degraded and brutal savage, better dead than alive. 
Parkman describes Indian life as he finds it, whether In the 
squalor and privation of the wigwam and camp, or the 
excitement of the hunt, or the ardor of war. Pie knew from 
personal experience that the Indian could be brave as well 
as cruel, talkative as well as taciturn, angry and uncontroll- 
able as well as self-contained, a firm friend as well as a 
bitter and relentless enemy; and he had no Interest in empha- 
sizing one quality more than the other. No writer of Ameri- 
can history has gauged so accurately, sympathetically, and 



Introduction 17 

Impartially the essential traits of the Indian character, or 
set forth so comprehensively the every-day Indian life. The 
picture Is not always pleasing, but we nevertheless feel that 
the Indian whom we meet In his pages Is a real person, not 
a creature of the Imagination. 

Parkman's historical work as a whole Is characterized by 
extraordinary accuracy and range of Information, a warm 
but restrained sympathy with the subject, and a forcible, 
simple, and picturesque stjde. Later Investigators have cor- 
rected a few of his statements and modified a few of his 
judgments, but his work as a whole does not need to be 
done over again. He could take the point of view of his char- 
acters -without sacrificing his own critical judgment, and 
make his heroes live again In his pages. His literary style, 
while occasionally diffuse and lacking In rhythmical balance, 
Is always easy and natural, and often vivid in the highest 
degree. In power of description, w^hether of scenery, or 
men, or events, he Is easily first among American historians. 
He had, to be sure, the great advantage of working In what 
was then an unknown field, replete with historical Interest ; 
but he used his advantage with all the Intelligence of the 
scholar and the vision of the artist. It has been well said 
of his books that they created the history of the French In 
America. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The best biography of Parkman is C. H. Farnham's Life 
of Francis Parkman (Boston, 1901). H. D. Sedgwick's 
Francis Parkman, in the American Men of Letters series 
(Boston, 1904), contains numerous extracts from letters 
and journals. 

The Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, 
series 2, vol. 8, contains (pp. 349-360) Parkman's auto- 
biography, together with an excellent memoir by O. B. 
Frothingham (pp. 520-562), and an account of the com- 
memorative proceedings of the society. The autobiography 
is also given by Farnham, supra, pp. 318-332. An interest- 
ing autobiographic letter to Martin Brimmer will be found 
in Sedgwick, supra, appendix. 

Among biographical sketches or estimates of Parkman's 
work, the following are especially to be commended : G. W. 
Cooke in New England Magazine, November, 1889 (vol. 
VII, pp. 248-262) ; E. L. Godkin in The Nation, Novem- 
ber 16, 1893 (vol. LVII, pp. 365-367); J. R. Lowell in 
The Century Magazine, November, 1892 (vol. XLV, pp. 
44, 45) ; J. H. Ward in The Forum, December, 1893 (vol. 
XVI, pp. 419-428) ; Justin Winsor and John Fiske in The 
Atlantic Monthly, May, 1894 (vol. LXXIII, pp. 660-674). 
An estimate by James Schouler, in his Historical Briefs, pp. 
1-15, reprinted from the Harvard Graduates Magazine, is 
also important. 



18 



PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 

The journey which the following narrative describes was 
undertaken on the writer's part with a view of studjang the 
manners and character of Indians In their primitive state. 
Although in the chapters which relate to them, he has only 
attempted to sketch those features of their wild and pictur- 
esque life which fell, in the present Instance, under his own 
e3^e, yet in doing so he has constantly aimed to leave an im- 
pression of their character correct as far as It goes. In 
justifying his claim to accuracy on this point, it is hardly 
necessary to advert to the representations given by poets and 
novelists, which, for the most part, are mere creations of 
fancy. The Indian is certainly entitled to a high rank among 
savages, but his good qualities are not those of an Uncas or 
an Outalissl. 

The sketches were originally published in the Knicker- 
bocker Magazine, commencing in February, 1847. 

Boston^ February 15, 1849. 



19 



THE CALIFORNIA AND 
OREGON TRAIL 

CHAPTER I 

THE FRONTIER 

Last spring, 1846, was a busy season in the city of St. 
Louis. Not only were emigrants from every part of the 
country preparing for the journey to Oregon and California, 
but an unusual number of traders were making ready their 
wagons and outfits for Santa Fe. Many of the emigrants, 
especially of those bound for California, were persons of 
wealth and standing. The hotels were crowded, and the 
gunsmiths and saddlers were kept constantly at work in 
providing arms and equipments for the different parties of 
travelers. Almost every day steamboats were leaving the 
levee and passing up the Missouri, crowded with passengers 
on their way to the frontier. 

In one of these, the Radnor, since snagged* and lost, my 
friend and relative, Quincy A, Shavv^ and myself, left St. 
Louis on the twenty-eighth of April, on a tour of curiosity 
and amusement to the Rocky Mountains. The boat was 
loaded until the water broke alternately over her guards. 
Her upper deck was covered w^ith large w^agons of a peculiar 
form for the Santa Fe trade, and her hold was crammed 
with goods for the same destination. There were also the 
equipments and provisions of a party of Oregon emigrants, 
^ band of mules and horses, piles of saddles and harness, and 
a multitude of nondescript articles indispensable on the 
prairies. Almost hidden in this medley one might have seen 

^Caught by the roots or branches of trees often found in western and southern 
rivers. 

20 



The Frontier 21 

a small French cart, of the sort very appropriately called a 
"mule-killer" bejond the frontiers, and not far distant a 
tent, together with a miscellaneous assortment of boxes and 
barrels. The whole equipage was far from prepossessing in 
its appearance ; yet, such as it was, it was destined to a long 
and arduous journey, on which the persevering reader will 
accompany it. 

The passengers on board the Radnor corresponded with 
her freight. In her cabin w^ere Santa Fe traders, gamblers, 
speculators, and adventurers of various descriptions, and her 
steerage was crowded with Oregon emigrants, "mountain 
men,"^ negroes, and a part}^ of Kansas Indians who had been 
on a visit to St. Louis. 

Thus laden, the boat struggled upward for seven or eight 
days against the rapid current of the Missouri, grating upon 
snags, and hanging for two or three hours at a time upon 
sand-bars. We entered the mouth of the Missouri in a 
drizzling rain, but the w^eather soon became clear, and 
showed distinctl}^ the broad and turbid river, with its eddies, 
its sand-bars, its ragged islands, and forest-covered shores. 
The Missouri is constantly changing its course, wearing away 
its banks on one side while it forms new ones on the other. 
Its channel is shifting continually. Islands are formed and 
then washed away; and while the old forests on one side 
are undermined and swept off, a young growth springs up 
from the new soil upon the other. With all these changes, 
the water is so charged with mud and sand that it is per- 
fectly opaque, and in a few minutes deposits a sediment an 
inch thick in the bottom of a tumbler. The river was now 
high ; but M^hen we descended in the autumn it was fallen 
very low, and all the secrets of its treacherous shallows were 
exposed to view. It w^as frightful to see the dead and broken 
trees, thick-set as a military abatis, firmly imbedded in the 
sand, and all pointing down stream, ready to impale any 

"Trappers or hunters, not employed by a fur company. 



22 The Oregon Trail 

unhappy steamboat that at high water should pass over that 
dangerous ground. 

In five or six days we began to see signs of the great 
western movement that w^as then taking place. Parties of 
emigrants, with their tents and wagons, would be encamped 
on open spots near the bank, on their way to the common 
rendezvous at Independence. On a rainy day, near sunset, 
w^e reached the landing of this place, which is situated some 
miles from the river, on the extreme frontier of Missouri. 
The scene was characteristic, for here were represented at 
one view the most remarkable features of this wild and enter- 
prising region. On the muddy shore stood some thirty or 
forty dark, slavish-looking Spaniards, gazing stupidly out 
from beneath their broad hats. They were attached to one 
of the Santa Fe companies,"^ whose wagons were crowded 
together on the banks above. In the midst of these, crouch- 
ing over a smoldering iire, was a group of Indians belonging 
to a remote Mexican tribe. One or two French^ hunters 
from the mountains, with their long hair and buckskin 
dresses, were looking at the boat; and, seated on a log close 
at hand, were three men w^th rifles lying across their knees. 
The foremost of these, a tall, strong figure, w^ith a clear blue 
e5'e and an open, intelligent face, might very well represent 
that race of restless and intrepid pioneers whose axes and 
rifles have opened a path from the AUeghenies to the western 
prairies. Fie was on his way to Oregon, probably a more 
congenial field to him than any that now remained on this 
side the great plains. 

Early on the next morning we reached Kansas,^ about 
five hundred miles from the mouth of the Missouri. Here 
we landed, and leaving our equipments in charge of my good 
friend Colonel Chick, whose log-house was the substitute for 

^Trading companies. 

^Canadian French, very possibly half-breeds. 

*The name was then used of a much larger region than the present State. 



The Frontier 23 

a tavern, we set out in a wagon for Westport/ where we 
hoped to procure mules and horses for the journey. 

It was a remarkably fresh and beautiful May morning. 
The rich and luxuriant woods through which the miserable 
road conducted us were lighted by the bright sunshine and 
enlivened by a multitude of birds. We overtook on the way 
our late fellow-travelers, the Kansas Indians, who, adorned 
with all their finery, w^ere proceeding homeward at a round 
pace; and whatever they might have seemed on board the 
boat, they made a very striking and picturesque feature in 
the forest landscape. 

Westport was full of Indians, whose little shagg}^ ponies 
were tied by dozens along the houses and fences. Sauks and 
Foxes, w^ith shaved heads and painted faces, Shawnees and 
Delawares, fluttering in calico frocks and turbans, Wj^andots 
dressed like white men, and a few wretched Kansas^ wrapped 
in old blankets, were strolling about the streets or lounging 
in and out of the shops and houses. 

As I stood at the door of the tavern, I saw a remarkable 
looking person coming up the street. He had a ruddy face, 
garnished with the stumps of a bristly red beard and mus- 
tache; on one side of his head was a round cap with a knob 
at the top, such as Scottish laborers sometimes wear ; his coat 
was of a nondescript form, and made of a gray Scotch plaid, 
with the fringes hanging all about it; he wore pantaloons^ 
of coarse homespun, and hob-nailed shoes; and, to complete 
his equipment, a little black pipe was stuck in one corner 
of his mouth. In this curious attire I recognized Captain C. 
of the British army, who, with his brother, and Mr. R., an 
English gentleman, was bound on a hunting expedition across 
the continent. I had seen the captain and his companions at 
St. Louis. They had now been for some time at Westport, 
making preparations for their departure, and waiting for 

^Now within the limits of Kansas City, Missouri. The landing was made a*' 
what was later known as Wayne City, Jackson County. 
^Here used as a plural form. 
^Parkman substituted "trousers" in later editions. 



24 The Oregon Trail 

a re-enforcement, since they were too few In number to 
attempt It alone. They might, it is true, have joined some 
of the parties of emigrants who were on the point of setting 
out for Oregon and California; but they professed great 
disinclination to have any connection with the " Kentucky 
fellows." ' 

The captain now urged It upon us that we should join 
forces and proceed to the mountains in company. Feeling 
no greater partiality for the society of the emigrants than 
they did, we thought the arrangement an advantageous one, 
and consented to it. Our future fellow-travelers had installed 
themselves in a little log-house, where we found them all 
surrounded by saddles, harness, guns, pistols, telescopes, 
knives, and. In short, their complete appointments for the 
prairie. R., who professed a taste for natural history, sat at 
a table stuffing a woodpecker; the brother of the captain, 
who was an Irishman, was splicing a trail-rope" on the floor, 
as he had been an amateur sailor. The captain pointed out, 
with much complacency, the different articles of their outfit. 
" You see," said he, " that we are all old travelers. I am 
convinced that no party ever went upon the prairie better 
provided." The hunter whom they had employed, a surly 
looking Canadian named Sorel, and their muleteer, an Ameri- 
can from St. Louis, were lounging about the building. In a 
little log stable close at hand were their horses and mules, 
selected by the captain, who was an excellent judge. 

The alliance entered into, we left them to complete their 
arrangements, while we pushed our own to^ all convenient 
speed. The emigrants for whom our friends professed such 
contempt were encamped on the prairie about eight or ten 
miles distant, to the number of a thousand or more, and 
new parties were constantly passing out from Independence 

^Probably an example of the ignorance of America common among English- 
men of that day. Few emigrants went to Oregon and California from Kentucky. 

2A long rope, wound about a horse's neck or carried on the horn of the saddle, 
and u??d for leading or tethering an animal. 

iWith. ' 



The Frontier 25 

to join them. Thej^ were in great confusioii, holding meet- 
ings, passing resolutions, and drawing up regulations, but 
unable to unite in the choice of leaders to conduct them 
across the prairie. Being at leisure one day, I rode over to 
Independence. The town w^as crowded. A multitude of 
shops had sprung up to furnish the emigrants and Santa Fe 
traders with necessaries for their journe}^; and there was an 
incessant hammering and banging from a dozen blacksmiths' 
sheds, where the heavy wagons were being repaired and the 
horses and oxen shod. The streets were thronged with men, 
horses, and mules. While I was in the town, a train of 
emigrant wagons from Illinois passed through to join the 
camp on the prairie, and stopped in the principal street. A 
multitude of healthy childrens' faces were peeping out from 
under the covers of the wagons. Here and there a buxom 
damsel w'as seated on horseback, holding over her sun-burnt 
face an old umbrella or a parasol, once gaudy enough, but 
now miserably faded. The men, very sober-looking country- 
men, stood about their oxen ; and as I passed I noticed three 
old fellows, who, with their long whips in their hands, were 
zealously discussing the doctrine of regeneration. The emi- 
grants, however, are not all of this stamp. Among them 
are some of the vilest outcasts in the country. I have often 
perplexed myself to divine the various motives that give 
impulse to this strange migration ; but whatever they may 
be, whether an insane hope of a better condition in life, or a 
desire of shaking off restraints of law and society, or mere 
restlessness, certain it is that multitudes bitterly repent the 
journey, and after they have reached, the land of promise are 
happy enough to escape from it. 

In the course of seven or eight da5^s we had brought our 
preparations near to a close. Meanwhile our friends had 
completed theirs, and becoming tired of Westport, they told 
us that they would set out in advance and wait at the cross- 
ing of the Kansas^ till we should come up. Accordingly R. 

^Kansas River. 



26 The Oregon Trail 

and the muleteer went forward with the wagon and tent, 
while the captain and his brother, together with Sorel, and 
a trapper named Boisverd who had joined them, followed 
with the band of horses. The commencement of the journey 
w^as ominous, for the captain was scarcely a mile from West- 
port, riding riong in state at the head of his party, leading 
his intended buffalo horse^ by a rope, when a tremendous 
thunderstorm came on and drenched them all to the skin. 
They hurried on to reach the place, about seven miles off, 
where R. was to have had the camp in readiness to receive 
them. But this prudent person, when he saw the storm 
approaching, had selected a sheltered glade In the woods, 
where he pitched his tent, and was sipping a comfortable 
cup of coffee, while the captain galloped for miles beyond 
through the rain to look for him. At length the storm cleared 
away, and the sharp-eyed trapper succeeded in discovering 
his tent. R. had by this time finished his coffee, and was 
seated on a buffalo robe smoking his pipe. The captain was 
one of the most easj-tempered men in existence, so he bore 
his ill-luck with great composure, shared the dregs of the 
coffee with his brother, and laid down to sleep in his wet 
clothes. 

We ourselves had our share of the deluge. We were 
leading a pair of mules to Kansas w^hen the storm broke. 
Such sharp and incessant f^.ashes of lightning, such stunning 
and continuous thunder, I had never known before. The 
woods were completely obscured by the diagonal sheets of 
rain that fell with a heavy roar, and rose in spray from the 
ground ; and the streams rose so rapidly that we could hardly 
ford them. At length, looming through the rain, we saw 
the log-house of Colonel Chick, who received us with his 
usual bland hospitality; while his wife, who, though a little 
soured and stiffened by too frequent attendance on camp- 
meetings, was not behind him in hospitable feeling, supplied 

'A horse for hunting buffalo. ^ 



The Frontier 27 

us with the means of repairing our drenched and bedraggled 
condition. The storm, clearing away at about sunset, opened 
a noble prospect from the porch of the colonel's house, which 
stands upon a high hill. The sun streamed from the break- 
ing clouds upon the swift and angry Missouri, and on the 
immense expanse of luxuriant forest that stretched from its 
banks back to the distant bluffs. 

Returning on the 'next day to Westport, we received a 
message from the captain, who had ridden back to deliver it 
in person, but, finding that we were in Kansas, had intrusted 
it with an acquaintance of his named Vogel, who kept a 
small grocery and liquor shop. Whiskey, by the way, cir- 
culates more freely in Westport than is altogether safe in a 
place where every man carries a loaded pistol in his pocket. 
As we passed this establishment, we saw V'ogel's broad Ger- 
man face and knavish looking eyes thrust from his door. 
He said he had something to tell us, and invited us to take 
a dram. Neither his liquor nor his message was very pal- 
atable. The captain had returned to give us notice that R., 
who assumed the direction of his party, had determined upon 
another route from that agreed upon between us; and, 
instead of taking the coufse of the traders, to pass northw^ard 
by Fort Leavenworth,^ and follow the path marked out by 
the dragoons in their expedition of last summer.^ To adopt 
such a plan without consulting us, we looked upon as a very 
high-handed proceeding; but, suppressing our dissatisfaction 
as well as we could, we made up our minds to join them at 
Fort Leavenworth, where they were to wait for us. 

Accordingly, our preparation being now complete, we 
attempted one fine morning to commence our journe3^ The 
first step was an unfortunate one. No sooner were our ani- 

^The principal military post on the Missouri, established in 1827. 

"During the summer of 1845, the First Regiment of Dragoons made excursions 
into the country west of the Missouri, one party going north nearly to British 
territory, another as far as the South Pass of the Rocky Mountains and the 
headwaters of the tributaries of the Colorado. The object was to intimidate and 
conciliate the Indians See pp. 45, 260, post. 



2S The Oregon Trail 

mals put in harness than the shaft mule reared and plunged, 
burst ropes and straps, and nearly flung the cart into the 
Missouri. Finding her wholly uncontrollable, we exchanged 
her for another, with which we were furnished by our friend 
Mr. Boone of Westport, a grandson of Daniel Boone, the 
pioneer. This foretaste of prairie experience was very soon 
followed by another. Westport w^as scarcely out of sight, 
\vhen we encountered a deep, muddy gully, of a species that 
afterward became but too familiar to us; and here for the 
space of an hour or more the cart stuck fast. 



CHAPTER II 

BREAKING THE ICE 

Both Shaw and myself were tolerably inured to the 
vicissitudes of traveling. We had experienced them under 
various forms, and a birch canoe was as familiar to us as 
a steamboat. The restlessness, the love of wilds and hatred 
of cities, natural perhaps in early years to every unperverted, 
son of Adam, was not our only motive for undertaking the 
present journey. My companion hoped to shake off the 
effects of a disorder that had impaired a constitution origi- 
nally hardy and robust; and I was anxious to pursue some 
inquiries relative to the character and usages of the remote 
Indian nations, being already familiar with many of the 
border tribes. 

Emerging from the mud-hole where we last took leave 
of the reader, we pursued our way for some time along the 
narrow track, in the checkered sunshine and shadow of the 
woods, till at length, issuing forth into the broad light, we 
left behind us the farthest outskirts of that great forest that 
once spread unbroken from the western plains to the shore 
of the Atlantic. Looking over an intervening belt of shrub- 
bery, we saw the green, oceanlike expanse of prairie, stretch- 
ing swell over swell to the horizon. 

It was a mild, calm spring day; a day when one is more 
disposed to musing and reverie than to action, and the softest 
part of his nature is apt to gain the ascendency. I rode in 
advance of the party, as we passed through the shrubbery; 
and as a nook of green grass offered a strong temptation, I 
dismounted and lay down there. All the trees and saplings 
w^ere in flower, or budding into fresh leaf; the red clusters 

29 



30 The Oregon Trail 

of the maple-blossoms and the rich flowers of the Indian 
apple were there in profusion ; and I was half inclined to 
regret leaving behind the land of gardens for the rude and 
stern scenes of the prairie and the mountains. 

Meanwhile the party came in sight from out of the 
bushes. Foremost rode Henry Chatillon, our guide and 
hunter, *a fine athletic figure, mounted on a hardy gray Wyan- 
dot pony. He wore a white blanket-coat, a broad hat of felt, 
moccasins, and pantaloons of deerskin, ornamented along the 
seams with rows of long fringes. His knife was stuck in 
his belt; his bullet-pouch and powder-horn hung at his side, 
and his rifle laj^ before him, resting against the high pommel 
of his saddle, which, like all his equipments, had seen hard 
service and was much the worse for wear. Shaw followed 
close, mounted on a little sorrel horse, and leading a larger 
animal by a rope. His outfit, which resembled mine, had 
been provided with a view to use rather than ornament. It 
consisted of a plain, black Spanish saddle, with holsters of 
heavy pistols, a blanket rolled up behind it, and the trail-rope 
attached to his horse's neck hanging coiled in front. He 
carried a double-barreled smooth-bore, w^hile I boasted a rifle 
of some fifteen pounds weight. At that time our attire, 
though far from elegant,, bore some marks of civilization, 
and oilFered a very favorable contrast to the inimitable shab- 
biness of our appearance on th^e return journey. A red flan- 
nel shirt, belted around the waist like a frock, then constituted 
our upper garment ; moccasins had supplanted our failing 
boots; and the remaining essential portion of our attire con- 
sisted of an extraordinary article, manufactured by a squaw 
out of smoked buckskin. Our muleteer, Deslauriers, brought 
up the rear with his cart, w^addling ankle-deep in the mud, 
alternately puflBng at his pipe and ejaculating in his prairie 
patois: "Sacre enfant de garce!" ^ as one of the mules would 
seem to recoil before some abyss of unusual profundit5% The 

lA French Cansdian oaro. 



Breaking the Ice 31 

cart was of the kind that one may see by scores around the 
market-place in Montreal/ and had a white covering to pro- 
tect the articles within. These were our provisions and a 
tent, with ammunition, blankets, and presents for the Indians. 

We were in all four men with eight animals ; for besides the 
spare horses led by Shaw and m3'self, an additional mule was 
driven along with us as a reserve in case of accident. 

After this summing up of our forces, it may not be amiss 
to glance at the characters of the two men who accom- 
panied us. 

Deslauriers was a Canadian, with all the characteristics of 
the true Jean Baptiste.^ Neither fatigue, exposure, nor 
hard labor could ever impair his cheerfulness and gayety, or 
his obsequious politeness to his bourgeois f and when night 
came he would sit down by the fire, smoke his pipe, and tell 
stories with the utmost contentment. In fact, the prairie 
was his congenial element. Henry Chatillon was of a dififer- 
ent stamp. When we were at St. Louis, several gentlemen 
of the Fur Company^ had kindly offered to procure for us 
a hunter and guide suited for our purposes, and on coming 
one afternoon to the office, we found there a tall and exceed- 
ingly well-dressed man, with a face so open and frank that it 
attracted our notice at once. We w^ere surprised at being 
told that it was he who wished to guide us to the mountains. 
He was born in a little French town near St. Louis, and from 
the age of fifteen years had been constantly in the neighbor- 
hood of the Rocky Mountains, employed for the most part by 
the Company to supply their forts w^ith buffalo meat. As a 
hunter he had but one rival in the whole region, a man named 
Cimoneau, with whom, to the honor of both of them, he was 

^A small two-wheeled cart drawn by one horse, still common in eastern 
Canada. 

2A common nickname for French Canadians of the lower class. 

^Master. 

<The American Fur Company, founded by John Jacob Astor, practically 
nionopolized the fur trade of the Missouri River. The headquarters of the West- 
ern Department of the company were at St. Louis. 



32 The Oregon Trail 

on terms of the closest friendship. He had arrived at St. 
Louis the day before, from the mountains, where he had re- 
mained for four years ; and he now only asked to go and' 
spend a day with his mother before setting out on another ex-^ 
pedition. His age was about thirty; he was six feet high,^ 
and very powerfully and gracefully moulded. The prairies' 
had been his school ; he could neither read nor wTite, but he^ 
had a natural refinement and delicacy of mind such as is very' 
rarely found, even in women. His manly face was a perfect 
mirror of uprightness, simplicity, and kindness of heart; he''^ 
had, moreover, a keen perception of character, and a tact 
that would preserve him from flagrant error in any society.^ 
Henry had not the restless energy of an Anglo-American.* 
He was content to take things as he found them; and his^ 
chief fault arose from an excess of easy generosity, impelling 
him to give away too profusely ever to thrive in the world. 
Yet it was commonly remarked of him, that whatever he 
might choose to do with what belonged to himself, the 
property of others was always safe in his hands. His bravery 
was as much celebrated in the mountains as his skill in hunt- 
ing; but it is characteristic of him that, in a country where 
the rifle is the chief arbiter between m^an and man, Henry 
was very seldom involved in quarrels. Once or twice, 
indeed, his quiet good-nature had been mistaken and. pre- 
sumed upon, but the consequences of the error w^ere so for- 
midable that no one was ever known to repeat it. No better 
evidence of the intrepidity of his temper could be wished 
than the common report that he had killed more than thirty 
grizzly bears. He was a proof of what unaided nature will 
sometimes do. I have never, in the city or in the wilderness, 
met a better man than my noble and true-hearted friend, 
Henry Chatillon. 

We were soon free of the woods and bushes, and fairly 
upon the broad prairie. Now and then a Shawnee passed 
us, riding his little shaggy pony at a "lope"; his calico shirt, 



Breaking the Ice 33 

his gaudy sash, and the gay handkerchief bound around his 
snaky hair fluttering in the wind. At noon Wb stopped to 
rest not far from a little creek replete with frogs and young 
"urtles. There had been an Indian encampment at the place, 
md the framework of their lodges still remained, enabling 
as very easily to gain a shelter from the sun, by merely 
.preading one or two blankets over them. Thus shaded, 
we sat upon our saddles, and Shaw^ for the first time lighted 
his favorite Indian pipe ; while Deslauriers was squatted 
over a hot bed of coals, shading his eyes with one hand and 
holding a little stick in the other, w^ith w^iich he regulated 
:he hissing contents of the frying-pan. The horses were 
turned to feed among the scattered bushes of a low oozy 
neadow. A drowzy springlike sultriness pervaded the air, 
and the voices of ten thousand j^oung frogs and insects, just 
awakened into life, rose in varied chorus from the creek, 
and the meadows. 

Scarcely were we seated when a visitor approached. This 
was an old Kansas Indian; a man of distinction, if one 
might judge from his dress. His head was shaved and 
painted red, and from the tuft of hair remaining on the 
crown dangled several eagle's feathers, and the tails of tw^o 
or three rattlesnakes. His cheeks, too, were daubed with 
vermilion ; his ears were adorned w^ith green glass pendants ; 
a collar of grizzly bears' claws surrounded his neck, and 
several large necklaces of w^ampum hung on his breast. Hav- 
ing shaken us by the hand with a cordial grunt of salutation, 
the old man, dropping his red blanket from his shoulders, 
sat down cross-legged on the ground. In the absence of 
liquor w^e offered him a cup of sweetened water, at which 
he ejaculated "Good !" and w^as beginning to tell us how 
great a man he was, and how many Paw^nees he had killed, 
when suddenly a motley concourse appeared wading across 
the creek toward us. They filed past in rapid succession, 
men, women, and children; some were on horseback, some 



34 The Oregon Trail 

on foot, but all were alike squalid and wretched. Old 
squaws, mounted astride of shaggy, meager little ponies, 
with perhaps one or two snake-eyed children seated behind 
them, clinging to their tattered blankets; tall lank young 
men on foot, with bows and arrows in their hands ; and 
girls whose native ugliness not all the charms of glass beads 
and scarlet cloth could disguise, made up the procession ; 
although here and there was a man who, like our visitor, 
seemed to hold some rank in this respectable community. 
They w^ere the dregs of the Kansas nation, who, while their 
betters were gone to hunt the buffalo, had left the village 
on a begging expedition to Westport. 

When this ragamuffin horde had passed, we caught our 
horses, saddled, harnessed, and resumed our journey. Ford- 
ing the creek, the low roofs of a number of rude buildings 
appeared, rising from a cluster of groves and woods on the 
left; and riding up through a long lane, amid a profusion 
of wild roses and early spring flowers, we found the log- 
church and school-houses belonging to the Methodist Shaw- 
nee Mission.^ The Indians were on the point of gathering 
to a religious meeting. Some scores of them, tall men in 
half-civilized dress, were seated on wooden benches under 
the trees ; while their horses were tied to the sheds and fences. 
Their chief, Parks,^ a remarkably large and athletic man, 
was just arrived from Westport, where he owns a trading 
establishment. Beside this, he has a fine farm and a con- 
siderable number of slaves.^ Indeed the Shaw^nees have made 
greater progress in agriculture than any other tribe on the 
Missouri frontier; and both in appearance and in character 
form a marked contrast to our late acquaintance, the Kansas. 

A few hours' ride brought us to the banks of the river 

lEstablished about 1829-1830. 

^Captain Joseph Parks, b. 1793, d. 1859, one of the most noted chiefs of the 
Shawnees. He served on the side of the United States in the Seminole war, arid 
was noted for his intelligence and public spirit. See Kansas Historical Collec- 
tions, X. 399-401. 

3A rare instance of the ownership of negro slaves by Indians. 



Breaking the Ice 35 

Kansas. Traversing the woods that lined it, and plowing 
through the deep sand, we encamped not far from the bank, 
at the Lower Delaw^are crossing. Our tent was erected for 
the first time on a meadow close to the woods, and the camp 
preparations being complete, we began to think of supper. 
An old Delaware woman, of some three hundred pounds' 
weight, sat in the porch of a little log-house close to the 
water, and a very pretty half-breed girl was engaged, under 
her superintendence, in feeding a large flock of turkeys that 
were fluttering and gobbling about the door. But no offers 
of money, or even of tobacco, could induce her to part with 
one of her favorites; so I took my rifle, to see if the w^oods 
or the river could furnish us anj^thing. A multitude of 
quails were plaintively whistling in the woods and meadows ; 
but nothing appropriate to the rifle was to be seen, except 
three buzzards, seated on the spectral limbs of an old dead 
sycamore that thrust itself out over the river from the dense 
sunny wall of fresh foliage. Their ugly heads were drawn 
down between their shoulders, and they seemed to luxuriate 
in the soft sunshine that w^as pouring from the west. As 
they ofiFered no epicurean temptations, I refrained from dis- 
turbing their enjoyment, but contented myself with admiring 
the calm beauty of the sunset ; for the river, eddying swiftly 
in deep purple shadows betwxen the impending w^oods, formed 
a wild but tranquilizing scene. 

When I returned to the camp I found Shaw and an old 
Indian seated on the ground in close conference, passing the 
pipe between them. The old man w^as explaining that he 
loved the whites, and had an especial partiality for tobacco. 
Deslauriers was arranging upon the ground our service of 
tin cups and plates ; and as other viands were not to be had, 
he set before us a repast of biscuit and bacon, and a large pot 
of coffee. Unsheathing our knives, we attacked it, disposed 
of the greater part, and tossed the residue to the Indian. 
Meanwhile our horses, now hobbled for the first time, stood 



36 The Oregon Trail 

among the trees with their fore-legs tied together, in great 
disgust and astonishment. They seemed by no means to 
relish this foretaste of what was before them. Mine, in par- 
ticular, had conceived a mortal aversion to the prairie life. 
One of them, christened Hendrick, an animal whose strength 
and hardihood were his only merits, and who yielded to 
nothing but the cogent arguments of the whip, looked toward 
us with an indignant countenance, as if he meditated aveng- 
ing his wrongs with a kick. The other, Pontiac, a good 
horse, though of plebeian lineage, stood with his head droop- 
ing and his mane hanging about his ej-es, with the grieved 
and sulky air of a lubberly boy sent off to school. Poor 
Pontiac! his forebodings were but too just; for when I last 
heard from him, he was under the lash of an Ogallala brave, 
on a war party against the Crows. 

As it grew dark, and the voices of the whip-poor-wills 
succeeded the whistle of the quails, we removed our saddles 
to the tent to serve as pillows, spread our blankets upon 
the ground, and prepared to bivouac for the first time that 
season. Each man selected the place in the tent which he 
was to occupy for the journey. To Deslauriers, however, 
was assigned the cart, into which he could creep in wet 
weather, and find a much better shelter than his bourgeois 
enjo3'ed in the tent. 

The river Kansas at this point forms the boundary line 
between the country of the Shawnees and that of the Dela- 
wares. We crossed it on the follow^ing day, rafting over 
our horses and equipage with much difficulty, and unlading 
our cart in order to make our way up the steep ascent on 
the farther bank. It was a Sunday morning, warm, tranquil 
and bright; and a perfect stillness reigned over the rough 
inclosures and neglected fields of the Delawares, except the 
ceaseless hum and chirruping of myriads of insects. Now and 
then an Indian rode past on his way to the meeting-house, 
or through the dilapidated entrance of some shattered log- 



Breaking the Ice 37 

house an old woman might be discerned, enjoying all the 
luxury of idleness. There was no village bell, for the Dela- 
wares have none; and 5^et upon that forlorn and rude settle- 
ment was the same spirit of Sabbath repose and tranquillity 
as in some little New England village among the mountains 
of New Hampshire or the Vermont woods. 

Having at present no leisure for such reflections, we 
pursued our journey. A military road led from this point 
to Fort Leavenworth, and for many miles the farms and 
cabins of the Delawares were scattered at short intervals on 
either hand. The little rude structures of logs, erected 
usually on the borders of a tract of woods, made a picturesque 
feature in the landscape. But the scenery needed no foreign 
aid. Nature had done enough for it; and the alternation 
of rich green prairies and groves that stood in clusters, or 
lined the banks of the numerous little streams, had all the 
softened and polished beauty of a region that has been for 
centuries under the hand of man. At that early season, too, 
it was in the height of its freshness and luxuriance. The 
woods were flushed with the red buds of the maple ; there 
were frequent flowering shrubs unknown in the east ; and 
the green swells of the prairie were thickly studded with 
blossom.s. 

Encamping near a spring by the side of a hill, we resumed 
our journey in the morning, and €arly in the afternoon had 
arrived within a few miles of Fort Leavenworth. The road 
crossed a stream densely bordered with trees, and running 
in the bottom of a deep woody hollow. We were about to 
descend into it, when a wild and confused procession appeared, 
passing through the w^ater below and coming up the steep 
ascent toward us. We stopped to let them pass. They 
were Delawares, just returned from a hunting expedition. 
All, both men and women, were mounted on horseback, and 
drove along with them a considerable number of pack mules, 
laden with the furs they had taken, together with the buf- 



2S The Oregon Trail 

falo robe», kettles, and other articles of their traveling equip- 
ment, which, as well as their clothing and their weapons, 
had a worn and dingy aspect, as if thej^ had seen hard service 
of late. At the rear of the party was an old man, who, as 
he came up, stopped his horse to speak to us. He rode a lit- 
tle tough shaggy pony, with mane and tail well knotted with 
burrs, and a rusty Spanish bit in its mouth, to which, 
by way of reins, was attached a string of rawhide. His 
saddle, robbed probably from a Mexican, had no covering, 
being merely a tree of the Spanish form, with a piece of 
grizzly bear's skin laid over it, a pair of rude wooden stir- 
rups attached, and in the absence of girth, a thong of hide 
passing around the horse's belly. The rider's dark features 
and keen snaky eye were unequivocally Indian. He wore a 
buckskin frock, which, like his fringed leggings, was well 
polished and blackened by grease and long service; and an 
old handkerchief was tied around his head. Resting on the 
saddle before him lay his rifle, a weapon in the use of which 
the Delawares are skillful ; though, from its weight, the dis- 
tant prairie Indians are too lazy to carry it.^ 

"Who's your chief?" he immediately inquired. 

Henry Chatillon pointed to us. The old Delawai;e fixed 
his eyes intently upon us for a moment, and then senten- 
tiously remarked: 

"No good! Too 5-oung!" With this flattering comment 
he left us, and rode after his people. 

This tribe, the Delawares, once the -peaceful allies of 
William Penn, the tributaries of the conquering Iroquois, are 
now the most adventurous and dreaded warriors upon the 
prairies. They make war upon remote tribes, the very names 
of which were unknown to their fathers in their ancient seats 
in Pennsylvania; and they push these new quarrels with true 
Indian rancor, sending out their little war parties as far as 
the Rocky Mountains and into the Mexican territories 

iThe western Indians did not as yet generally use firearms. 



Breaking the Ice 39 

Their neighbors and former confederates, the Shawnees, who 
are tolerable farmers, are in a prosperous condition ; but 
the Delawares dwindle every year, from the number of men 
lost in their warlike expeditions. 

Soon after leaving this party, we saw, stretching on the 
right, the forests that follow the course of the Missouri, 
and the deep woody channel through which at this point it 
runs. At a distance in front were the white barracks of 
Fort Leavenworth, just visible through the trees upon an 
eminence above a bend of the river. A wide green meadow, 
as level as a lake, lay between us and the Missouri, and 
upon this, close to a line of trees that bordered a little brook, 
stood the tent of the captain and his companions, with their 
horses feeding around it; but they themselves \ver6 invisible. 
Wright, their muleteer, was there, seated on the tongue of 
the wagon repairing his harness. Boisverd stood cleaning 
his rifle at the door of the tent, and Sorel lounged idly 
about. On closer examination, however, we discovered the 
captain's brother. Jack, sitting in the tent, at his old occupa- 
tion of splicing trail-ropes. He welcomed us in his broad 
Irish brogue, and said that his brother w^as fishing in the 
river and R. gone to the garrison. They returned before 
sunset. Meanwhile w^e erected our own tent not far off, 
and after supper a council was held, in which it was resolved 
to remain one day at Fort Leavenworth, and on the next 
to bid a final adieu to the frontier; or in the phraseology 
of the region, to "jump off!" Our deliberations were con- 
ducted by the ruddy light from a distant swell of the prairie, 
where the long dry grass of last summer was on fire. 



CHAPTER III 

FORT LEAVENWORTH 

On the next morning we rode to Fort Leavenworth. 
Colonel^ now General Kearny/ to whom I had had the honor 
of an introduction when at St. Louis, was just arrived, and 
received us at his quarters with the high-bred courtesy habit- 
ual to him. Fort Leavenworth is in fact no fort, being with- 
out defensive works, except two block-houses. No rumors 
of war had as yet disturbed its tranquillity. In the square 
grassy area, surrounded by barracks and the quarters of the 
officers, the men were passing and repassing, or lounging 
among the trees ; although not many weeks afterward it pre- 
sented a different scene, for here the very offscourings of the 
frontier were congregated, to be marshaled for the expedition 
against Santa Fe. 

Passing through the garrison, we rode toward the Kick- 
apoo village,^ five or six miles beyond. The path, a rather 
dubious and uncertain one, led us along the ridge of high 
bluffs that bordered the Missouri ; and by looking to the 
right or to the left, we could enjoy a strange contrast of 
opposite scenery. On the left stretched the prairie, rising 
into swells and undulations, thickly sprinkled with groves 
or gracefully expanding into wide grassy basins of miles in 
extent; while its curvatures, swelling against the horizon, 
were often surmounted by lines of sunny woods ; a scene to 
which the freshness of the season and the peculiar mellow- 
ness of the atmosphere gave additional softness. Below us, 
on the right, was a tract of ragged and broken woods. 
We could look down on the summits of the trees, some liv- 

^Stephcn W. Kearny, uncle of General Philip Kearny. 

2In the present Kickapoo township, Leavenworth County, Kansas. 

40 



Fort Leavenworth 41 

ing and some dead ; some erect, others leaning at every angle, 
and others still piled in masses together by the passage of a 
hurricane. Beyond their extreme verge, the turbid waters 
of the Missouri were discernible through the boughs, rolling 
powerfully along at the foot of the woody declivities on its 
farther bank. 

The path soon after led inland ; and as we crossed an 
open meadow w^e saw a cluster of buildings on a rising 
ground before us, with a crowd of people surrounding them. 
They were the storehouse, cottage, and stables of the Kick- 
apoo trader's establishment. Just at that moment, as it 
chanced, he was beset with half the Indians of the settle- 
ment. They had tied their wretched, neglected little ponies 
by dozens along the fences and outhouses, and were either 
lounging about the place or crowding into the trading-house. 
Here were faces of various colors; red, green, white, and 
black, curiously intermingled and disposed over the visage 
in a variety of patterns. Calico shirts, red and blue blankets, 
brass ear-rings, wampum necklaces, appeared in profusion. 
The trader was a blue-eyed, open-faced man, who neither 
in his manners nor his appearance betrayed any of the rough- 
ness of the frontier; though just at present he was obliged 
to keep a lynx eye on his supicious customers, who, men and 
women, were climbing on his counter, and seating them- 
selves among his boxes and bales. 

The village itself was not far off, and sufficiently illus- 
trated the condition of its unfortunate and self-abandoned 
occupants. Fancy to yourself a little sw^ift stream, work- 
ing its devious way down a woody valley, sometimes w4iolly 
hidden under logs and fallen trees, sometimes issuing forth 
and spreading into a broad, clear pool ; and on its banks, in 
little nooks cleared away among the trees, miniature log- 
houses in utter ruin and neglect. A labyrinth of narrow, 
obstructed paths connected these habitations one with another. 
Sometimes we met a stray calf a pig or a pony, belonging 



42 The Oregon Trail 

to some of the villagers, who usually lay in the sun in front 
of their dwellings, and looked on us "with cold, suspicious 
eyes as we approached. Farther on, in place of the log-huts 
of the Kickapoos, we found the pukwi^ lodges of their neigh- 
bors, the Potawatomis, whose condition seemed no better 
than theirs. 

Growing tired at last, and exhausted by the excessive 
heat and sultriness of the day, we returned to our friend, 
the trader. By this time the crowd around him had dis- 
persed, and left him at leisure. He invited us to his cottage, 
a little white-and-green building in the style of the old 
French settlements, and ushered us into a neat, well-fur- 
nished room. The blinds were closed and the heat and 
glare of the sun excluded ; the room was as cool as a cavern. 
It was neatly carpeted, too, and furnished in a manner that 
we hardly expected on the frontier. The sofas, chairs, tables, 
and a well-filled bookcase would not have disgraced an east- 
ern city; though there were one or tw^o little tokens that 
indicated the rather questionable civilization of the region. 
A pistol, loaded and capped, lay on the mantelpiece; and 
through the glass of the bookcase, peeping above the works 
of John Milton, glittered the handle of a very mischievous- 
looking knife. 

Our host went out, and returned with iced water, glasses, 
'and a bottle of excellent claret, a refreshment most welcome 
in the extreme heat of the day; and soon after appeared a 
merry, laughing woman, who must have been, a year or two 
before, a very rich and luxuriant specimen of Creole beaut}^ 
She came to say that lunch was ready in the next room. 
Our hostess evidently lived on the sunny side of life, and 
troubled herself with none of its cares. She sat down and 
entertained us while we were at table with anecdotes of 
fishing parties, frolics, and the officers at the fort. Taking 

lAn Indian term of uncertain meaning: here, probably, a small temporary 
shelter. 



Fort Leavenworth 43 

leave at length of the hospitable trader and his friend, we 
rode back to the garrison. 

Shaw passed on to the camp, while I remained to call 
upon Colonel Kearny. I found him still at table. There 
sat our friend the captain, in the same remarkable habili- 
ments in which we saw him at Westport; the black pipe, 
however, being for the present laid aside. He dangled his 
little cap in his hand and talked of steeple-chases, touching 
occasionally upon his anticipated exploits in buffalo-hunting. 
There, too, was R., somewhat more elegantly attired. For 
the last time we tasted the luxuries of civilization, and drank 
adieus to it in wine good enough to make us almost regret 
the leave-taking. Then, mounting, we rode together to the 
camp, where everything was in readiness for departure on 
the morrow. 



CHAPTER IV 



"jumping off" 



The reader need not be told that John Bull never leaves 
home without encumbering himself with the greatest pos- 
sible load of luggage. Our companions were no exception 
to the rule. They had a wagon drawn by six mules and 
crammed with provisions for six months, besides ammuni- 
tion enough for a regiment; spare rifles and fowling-pieces, 
ropes and harness; personal baggage, and a miscellaneous 
assortment of articles, which produced infinite embarrassment 
on the journey. They had also decorated their persons with 
telescopes and portable compasses, and carried English double- 
barreled rifles of sixteen to the pound calibre, slung to their 
saddles in dragoon fashion. 

By sunrise on the twenty-third of May we had break- 
fasted; the tents were leveled, the animals saddled and har- 
nessed, and all was prepared. "Avarice done! get up!" cried 
Deslauriers from his seat in front of the cart. Wright, our 
friends' muleteer, after some swearing and lashing, got his 
insubordinate train in motion, and then the whole party filed 
from the ground. Thus we bade a long adieu to bed and 
board and the principles of Blackstone's Commentaries.^ The 
day was a most auspicious one ; and j-et Shaw and I felt 
certain misgivings which in the sequel proved but too well 
founded. We had just learned that though R. had taken it 
upon him to adopt this course without consulting us, not a 
single man in the party was acquainted with it; and the 
absurdity of our friend's high-handed measure very soon 
became manifest. His plan was to strike the trail of several 

*A famous treatise on English law, much used as a textbook. To "bid 
adi^u- ■ ■ *'^ Blackstone's Commentaries" means to leave civilization behind. 

44 



Jumping Off 45 

companies of dragoons, who last summer had made an 
expedition under Colonel Kearny to Fort Laramie, and by 
this means to reach the grand trail of the Oregon emigrants 
up the Platte. 

We rode for an hour or two, when a familiar cluster of 
buildings appeared on a little hill. **Hallo!" shouted the 
Kickapoo trader from over his fence, "where are you going?" 
A few rather emphatic exclamations might have been heard 
among us, when w^e found that we had gone miles out of our 
way, and were not advanced an inch toward the Rocky 
Mountains. So we turned in the direction the trader indi- 
cated, and with the sun for a guide, began to trace a "bee 
line" across the prairie. We struggled through copses and 
lines of wood ; we w^aded brooks and pools of water ; we 
traversed prairies as green as an emerald, expanding before 
us for mile after mile, wider and more wild than the wastes 

Mazeppa rode over : 

"Man nor brute. 
Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot, 
Lay in the wild luxuriant soil ; , 

No sign of travel ; none of toil ; 
The very air was mute."^ 

Riding in advance, we passed over one of these great 
plains; we looked back and saw the line of scattered horse- 
men stretching for a mile or more ; and far in the rear against 
the horizon, the white wagons creeping slowly along. "Here 
we are at last!" shouted the captain. And in truth we had 
struck upon the traces of a large body of horse. We turned 
joyfully and followed this new course, with tempers some- 
what improved ; and toward sunset encamped on a high swell 
of the prairie, at the foot of which a lazy stream soaked along 
through clumps of rank grass. It was getting dark. We 
turned the horses loose to feed. "Drive down the tent-pickets 
hard," said Henry Chatillon, "it is going to blow." We 
did so, and secured the tent as well as we could ; for the sky 

^From Byron's Mazeppa, XVII, lines 557-661. 



46 The Oregon Trail 

had changed totally, and a fresh damp smell in the wind 
warned us that a stormy night was likely to succeed the hot 
clear day. The prairie also wore a new aspect, and its vast 
swells had grown black and somber under the shadow of the 
clouds. The thunder soon began to growl at a distance. 
Picketing and hobbling the horses among the rich grass at 
the foot of the slope where we encamped, w^e gained a shelter 
just as the rain began to fall, and sat at the opening of the 
tent watching the proceedings of the captain. In defiance 
of the rain he was stalking among the horses, wrapped in 
an old Scotch plaid. An extreme solicitude tormented him 
lest some of his favorites should escape, or some accident 
should befall them; and he cast an anxious eye toward three 
wolves who were sneaking along over the dreary surface of 
the- plain, as if he dreaded some hostile demonstration on 
their part. 

On the next morning we had gone but a mile or two, 
w^hen we came to an extensive belt of woods, through the 
rnidst of which ran a stream, wide, deep, and of an appear- 
ance particularly muddy and treacherous. Deslauriers was in 
advance with his cart ; he jerked his pipe from his mouth, 
lashed his mules, and poured forth a volley of Canadian 
ejaculations. In plunged the cart, but midway it stuck fast. 
Deslauriers leaped out knee-deep in water, and by dint of 
sacres and a vigorous application of the whip, he urged the 
mules out of the slough. Then approached the long team 
and heavy wagon of our friends ; but it paused on the brink. 

*'Now my advice is " began the captain, who had 

been anxiously contemplating the muddy gulf. 

"Drive on!" cried R. 

But Wright, the muleteer, apparently had not as yet 
decided the point in his own mind ; and he sat still in his 
seat on one of the shaft-mules, w^histling in a low contem- 
plative strain to himself. 

"My advice is," resumed the captain, "that we unload; 



Jumping Off 47 

for I'll bet any man five pounds that if we try to go through, 
we shall stick fast." 

"By the powers, we shall stick fast!" echoed Jack, the cap- 
tain's brother, shaking his large head with an air of firm 
conviction. 

"Drive on! drive on!" cried R., petulantly. 

"Well," observed the captain, turning to us as we sat 
looking on, much edifie<l by this by-play among our con- 
federates. "I can only give my advice, and if people won't 
be reasonable, why, they won't; that's all!" 

Meanwhile Wright had apparently made up his mind ; 
for he suddenly began to shout forth a volley of oaths and 
curses that, compared with the French imprecations of Des- 
lauriers, sounded like the roaring of heavy cannon after the 
popping and sputtering of a bunch of Chinese crackers. At 
the same time he discharged a shower of blows upon his 
mules, who hastily dived into the mud and drew the w^agon 
lumbering after them. For a moment the issue was dubious. 
Wright writhed about in his saddle, and swore and lashed 
like a madman ; but w4io can count on a team of half-broken 
mules? At the most critical point, when all should have 
been harmony and combined effort, the perverse brutes fell 
into lamentable disorder, and huddled together in confusion 
on the farther bank. There was the w^agon up to the hub 
in mud, and visibly settling every instant. There was noth- 
ing for it but to unload ; then to dig away the mud from 
before the wheels with a spade, and lay a causeway of bushes 
and branches. This agreeable labor accomplished, the wagon 
at length emerged ; but if I mention that some interruption 
of this sort occurred at least four or five times a day for a 
fortnight, the reader will understand that our progress toward 
the Platte was noi- without its obstacles. 

We traveled six or sever? '^iles farther, and "nooned" 
near a brook. On the point of resuming our journey, when 
the horses were all driven down to water, mv ^mesick 



48 The Oregon Trail 

charger Pontiac made a sudden leap across, and set off at a 
round trot for the settlements. I mounted my remaining 
horse, and started in pursuit. Making a circuit, I headed 
the runaway, hoping to drive him back to camp; but he 
instantly broke into a gallop, made a wide tour on the prairie, 
and got past me again. I tried this plan repeatedly, with 
the same result ; Pontiac was evidently disgusted with the 
prairie; so I abandoned it, and tried another, trotting along 
gently behind him, in hopes that I might quietly get near 
enough to seize the trail-rope which was fastened to his neck, 
and dragged about a dozen feet behind him. The chase 
grew interesting. For mile after mile I followed the rascal, 
with the utmost care not to alarm him, and gradually got 
nearer, until at length old Hendrick's nose was fairly brushed 
by the whisking tail of the unsuspecting Pontiac. Without 
drawing rein, I slid softly to the ground ; but my long heavy 
rifle encumbered me, and the low sound it made in striking 
the horn of the saddle startled him ; he pricked up his ears, 
and sprang off at a run. "My friend," thought I, remount- 
ing, "do that again, and I will shoot j^ou!" 

Fort Leavenworth was about forty miles distant, and 
thither I determined to follow him. I made up my mind 
to spend a solitary and supperless night, and then set out 
again in the morning. One hope, however, remained. The 
creek where the wagon had stuck was just before us; Pontiac 
might be thirsty with his run, and stop there to drink. I 
kept as near to him as possible, taking every precaution not 
to alarm him again, and the result proved as I had hoped ; 
for he walked deliberately among the trees, and stooped down 
to the water. I alighted, dragged old Hendrick through the 
mud, and with a feeling of infinite satisfaction picked up the 
slimy trail-rope, and twisted it three times round my hand. 
"Now let me see you get away again !" I thought, as I 
remounted. But Pontiac was exceedingly reluctant to turn 
back; Hendrick, too, who had evidently flattered himself 



Jumping Off 49 

with vain hopes, showed the utmost repugnance, and grum- 
bled in a manner peculiar to himself at being compelled to 
face about. A smart cut of the whip restored his cheerful- 
ness; and dragging the recovered truant behind, I set out in 
search of the camp. An hour or two elapsed, when, near 
sunset, I saw the tents, standing on a rich swell of the prairie 
beyond a line of woods, while the bands of horses were feed- 
ing in a low meadow close at hand. There sat Jack C, 
cross-legged, in the sun, splicing a trail-rope, and the rest 
were lying on the grass, smoking and telling stories. That 
night we enjoyed a serenade from the wolves, more lively 
than any with which they had yet favored us; and in the 
morning one of the musicians appeared, not many rods from 
the tents, quietly seated among the horses, looking at us with 
a pair of large gray eyes ; but perceiving a rifle leveled at him, 
he leaped up and made off in hot haste. 

I pass by the following day or two of our journey, for 
nothing occurred worthy of record. Should any one of my 
readers ever be impelled to visit the prairies, and should he 
choose the route of the Platte (the best, perhaps, that can be 
adopted), I can assure him that he need not think to enter 
at once upon the paradise of his imagination. A dreary pre- 
liminary, a protracted crossing of the threshold, awaits him 
before he finds himself fairly upon the verge of the "great 
American desert"; those barren wastes, the haunts of the 
buffalo and the Indian, where the very shadow of civiliza- 
tion lies a hundred leagues behind him. The intervening 
country, the wide and fertile belt that extends for several 
hundred miles beyond the extreme frontier, will probably 
answer tolerably well to his preconceived ideas of the prairie; 
for this it is from which picturesque tourists, painters, poets, 
and novelists, who have seldom penetrated farther, have 
derived their conceptions of the whole region. If he has a 
painter's eye, he may find his period of probation not wholly 
void of interest. The scenery, though tame, is graceful and 



50 The Oregon Trail 

pleasing. Here are level plains too wide for the eye to 
measure; green undulations like motionless swells of the 
ocean ; abundance of streams, followed through all their wind- 
ings by lines of woods and scattered groves. But let him 
be as enthusiastic as he may, he will find enough to damp 
his ardor. His wagons will stick in the mud ; his horses will 
break loose; harness will give way and axle-trees prove 
unsound. His bed will be a soft one, consisting often of 
black mud of the richest consistenc5^ As for food, he must 
content himself with biscuit and salt provisions; for, strange 
as it may seem, this tract of country produces very little game. 
As he advances, Indeed, he will see, moldering In the grass 
by his path, the vast antlers of the elk, and farther on, the 
whitened skulls of the buffalo, once swarming over this now 
deserted region. Perhaps, like us, he may journey for a fort- 
night, and see not so much as the hoof-print of a deer ; in the 
spring not even a prairie hen is to be had. 

Yet, to compensate him for this unlooked-for deficiency 
of game, he will find himself beset with "varmints" innu- 
merable. The w^olves will entertain him with a concerto' 
at night, and skulk around him by day just beyond rifle-shot ; 
his horse will step into badger-holes; from every marsh and 
mud-puddle will arise the bellowing, croaking, and trilling 
of legions of frogs, infinitely various In color, shape, and 
dimensions. A profusion of snakes will glide away from 
under his horse's feet, or quietly visit him in his tent at night ; 
while the pertinacious humming of unnumbered mosquitoes 
will banish sleep from his eyelids. When, thirsty with a 
long ride in the scorching sun over some boundless reach of 
prairie, he comes at length to a pool of water and alights to 
drink, he discovers a troop of 5^oung tadpoles sporting in the 
bottom of his cup. Add to this, that all the morning the 
sun beats upon him with a sultry, penetrating heat, and that, 
with provoking regularity, at about four o'clock In the after- 

»Concert. 



Jumping Off 51 

noon, a thunderstorm rises and drenches him to the skin. 
Such being the charms of this favored region, the reader 
will easily conceive the extent of our gratification at learning 
that for a v^^eek we had been journeying on the wrong track! 
How this agreeable discovery was made I will presently 
explain. 

One day, after a protracted morning's ride, we stopped 
to rest at noon upon the open prairie. No trees were in 
sight ; but close at hand, a little dribbling brook was twisting 
from side to side through a hollow, now forming holes of 
stagnant water, and now gliding over the mud in a scarcely 
perceptible current, among a growth of sickly bushes and 
great clumps of tall rank grass. The day was excessively 
hot and oppressive. The horses and mules were rolling on 
the prairie to refresh themselves, or feeding among the bushes 
in the hollow. We had dined ; and Deslauriers, puffing at 
his pipe, knelt on the grass, scrubbing our service of tin plate. 
Shaw lay in the shade, under the cart, to rest for a while, 
before the word should be given to "catch up."^ Henry 
Chatillon, before lying down, was looking about for signs 
of snakes, the only living things that he feared, and uttering 
various ejaculations of disgust at finding several suspicious- 
looking holes close to the cart. I sat leaning against the 
wheel in a scanty strip of shade, making a pair of hobbles 
to replace those which my contumacious steed Pontiac had 
broken the night before. The camp of our friends, a rod or 
two distant, presented the same scene of lazy tranquillity. 

"Hallo!" cried Henry, looking up from his inspection of 
the snake-holes, "here comes the old captain !" 

The captain approached, and stood for a moment con- 
templating us in silence. 

"I say, Parkman," he began, "look at Shaw there, asleep 
under the cart, with the tar dripping oflF the hub of the wheel 
on his shoulder!" 

'Saddle, make ready. 



52 The Oregon Trail 

At this Shaw got up, with his eyes half opened, and feel- 
ing the part indicated, he found his hand glued fast to his 
red flannel shirt. 

*'He'll look well when he gets among the squaws, won't 
he?" observed the captain, with a grin. 

He then crawled under the cart and began to tell stories, 
of which his stock was inexhaustible. Yet every moment 
he would glance nervously at the horses. At last he jumped 
up in great excitement. "See that horse! There — that fel- 
low just walking over the hill! By Jove! he's off. It's your 
big horse, Shaw; no it isn't, it's Jack's! Jack! Jack! hallo, 
Jack!" Jack, thus invoked, jumped up and stared vacantly 
at us. 

"Go and catch your horse, if you don't want to lose him !" 
roared the captain. 

Jack instantly set off at a run through the grass, his 
broad pantaloons flapping about his feet. The captain gazed 
anxiously till he saw that the horse was caught; then he sat 
down, with a countenance of thoughtfulness and care. 

"I tell you what it is," he said, "this will never do at all. 
We shall lose every horse in the band some day or other, 
and then a pretty plight we should be in ! Now I am con- 
vinced that the only way for us is to have every man in the 
camp stand horse-guard in rotation whenever we stop. Sup- 
posing a hundred Pawnees should jump up out of that ravine, 
all yelling and flapping their buffalo robes, in the way they 
do? Why, in two minutes not a hoof would be in sight." 
We reminded the captain that a hundred Pawnees would 
probably demolish the horse-guard, if he were to resist their 
depredations. 

"At any rate," pursued the captain, evading the point, 
"our whole system is wrong; I'm convinced of it; it is totally 
unmilitary. Why, the way we travel, strung out over the. 
prairie for a mile, an enem.y might attack the foremost men, 
and cut them off before the rest could come up." 



Jumping Off 53 

"We are not in an enemy's country yet," said Shaw: 
"when WG ar.e, we'll travel together." 

"Then," said the captain, "we might be attacked in camp. 
We've no sentinels; we camp in disorder; no precautions at 
all to guard against surprise. My ow^n convictions are that 
we ought to camp in a hollow square, with the fires in the 
center; and have sentinels and a regular password appointed 
for every night. Besides, there should be vedettes, riding in 
advance, to find a place for the camp and give warning of an 
enemy. These are my convictions. I don't want to dictate 
to any man. I give advice to the best of my judgment, that's 
all; and then let people do as they please." 

We intimated that perhaps it would be as well to post- 
pone such burdensome precautions until there should be some 
actual need of them; but he shook his head dubiously. The 
captain's sense of military propriety had been severely shocked 
by what he considered the irregular proceedings of the party ; 
and this was not the first time he had expressed himself upon 
the subject. But his convictions seldom produced any prac- 
tical results. In the present case, he contented himself, as 
usual, wnth enlarging on the importance of his suggestions, 
and wondering that they were not adopted. But his plan of 
sending out vedettes seemed particularly dear to him ; and as 
no one else was disposed to second his views on this point, he 
took it into his head to ride forward that afternoon, himself. 
"Come, Parkman," said he, "will you go with me?" 
We set out together, and rode a mile or two in advance. 
The captain, in the course of twent)'^ years' service in the 
British army, had seen something of life; one extensive side 
of it, at least, he had enjoyed the best opportunities for study- 
ing; and being naturally a pleasant fellow, he w^as a very 
entertaining companion. He cracked jokes and told stories 
for an hour or two; until, looking back, w^e saw the prairie 
behind us stretching away to the horizon, without a horse- 
man or a wagon in sight. 



54 The Oregon Trail 

**Now," said the captain, "I think the vedettes had bet- 
ter stop till the main bodj^ comes up." 

I was of the same opinion. There was a thick growth 
of woods just before us, with a stream running through them. 
Having crossed this, we found on the other side a fine level 
meadow, half encircled by the trees; and fastening our horses 
to some bushes, w^e sat down on the grass, while, with an 
old stump of a tree for a target, I began to display the supe- 
riority of the renowned rifle of the backwoods over the 
foreign innovation borne by the captain. At length voices 
could be heard in the distance behind the trees. 

"There they come!" said the captain: "let's go and see 
how they get through the creek." 

We mounted and rode to the bank of the stream, where 
the trail crossed it. It ran in a deep hollow, full of trees; 
as we looked down, we saw a confused crowd of horsemen 
riding through the water; and amiong the dingy habiliments 
of our party glittered the uniform.s of four dragoons. 

Shaw came whipping his horse up the back, in advance 
of the rest, with a somewhat indignant countenance. The 
first word he spoke was a blessing fervently invoked on the 
head of R., who was riding, with a crestfallen air, in the rear. 
Thanks to the ingenious devices of the gentleman, we had 
missed the track entirely, and wandered, not tow^ard the 
Platte, but to the village of the Iowa Indians. This we 
learned from the dragoons, who had lately deserted from 
Fort Leavenworth. They told us that our best plan now was 
to keep to the northward until we should strike the trail 
formed by several parties of Oregon emigrants, who had that 
season set out from St. Joseph, in IMissouri. 

In extremely bad temper, w^e encamped on this ill-starred 
spot, while the deserters, whose case admitted of no delay, 
rode rapidly forward. On the day following, striking the 
St. Joseph trail, we turned our horses' heads toward Fort 
Laramie, then aboui seven hundred miles to the westward. 



CHAPTER V 



THE "big blue" 



The great medley of Oregon and California emigrants, 
at their camps around Independence, had heard reports that 
several additional parties were on the point of setting out from 
St. Joseph, farther to the northward. The prevailing im- 
pression was that these w^ere Mormons, twenty-three hundred 
in number; and a great alarm was excited in consequence. 
The people of Illinois and Missouri, who composed by far the 
greater part of the emigrants, have never been on the best 
terms with the "Latter Day Saints"^; and it is notorious 
throughout the country how much blood has been spilt in 
their feuds, even far within the limits of the settlements. No 
one could predict what would be the result, when large armed 
bodies of these fanatics should encounter the most impetuous 
and reckless of their old enemies on the broad prairie, far 
be3^ond the reach of law or military force. The women and 
children at Independence raised a great outcry; the men them- 
selves were seriously alarmed; and, as I learned, they sent to 
Colonel Kearny requesting an escort of dragoons as far as 
the Platte. This was refused; and as the sequel proved, 
there w^as no occasion for it. The St. Joseph emigrants were 
as good Christians and as zealous Mormon-haters as the rest; 
and the very few families of the "Saints" who passed out this 
season by the route of the Platte remained behind until the 
great tide of emigration had gone by; standing in <quite as 
much awe of the "Gentiles"^ as the latter did of them. 

iThe name of the Mormon Church is "The Church of Jesus Christ of 
Latter-Day Saints." The Mormons had been expelled from their home at Nauvoo, 
Illinois, at the end of 1845, and were on their way to Utah. The feeling against 
them was at this time very bitter. 

2Non-Mormons. 

55 



56 The Oregon Trail 

We were now, as I before mentioned, upon this St. Joseph 
trail. It was evident, by the traces, that large parties were 
a few daj^s in advance of us; and as we too supposed them 
to be Mormons, we had some apprehension of interruption. 

The journey was somewhat m.onotonous. One day we 
rode on for hours, without seeing a tree or a bush ; before, 
behind, and on either side stretched the vast expanse, rolling 
in a succession of graceful swells, covered with the unbroken 
carpet of fresh green grass. Here and there a crow, or a 
raven, or a turkey-buzzard relieved the uniformity. 

''What shall we do to-night for wood and water?" we 
began to ask of each other; for the sun was within an hour 
of setting. At length a dark green speck appeared, far off 
on the right; it was the top of a tree, peering over a swell 
of the prairie; and leaving the trail, we made all haste 
toward it. It proved to be the vanguard of a cluster of 
bushes and low trees, that surrounded some pools of water 
in an extensive hollow; so we encamped on the rising 
ground near it. 

Shaw and I were sitting in the tent, when Deslauriers 
thrust his brown face and old felt hat into the opening, and 
dilating his eyes to their utmost extent, announced supper. 
There were the tin cups and the iron spoons, arranged in 
military order on the grass, and the cof¥ee-pot predominant 
in the midst. The meal was soon dispatched ; but Henry 
Chatillon still sat cross-legged, dallying with the remnant 
of his coliee, the beverage in universal use upon the prairie, 
and an especial favorite with him. He preferred it in its 
virgin flavor, unimpaired by sugar or cream ; and on the 
present occasion it met his entire approval, being exceed- 
ingly s^-rong, or, as he expressed it, "right black." 

It was a rich and gorgeous sunset — an American sunset; 
and the ruddy glow of the sky was reflected from some 
extensive pools of water among the shadowy copses in the 
meadow below. 



The Big Blue 57 

"I must have a bath to-night," said Shaw. **How is it, 
Deslauriers? Any chance for a swim down here?" 

"Ah! I cannot tell; just as you please, monsieur," replied 
Deslauriers, shrugging his shoulders, perplexed by his igno- 
rance of English, and extremely anxious to conform in all 
respects to the opinion and wishes of his bourgeois. 

"Look at his moccasin," said I. "It has evidently been 
lately immersed in a profound abyss of black mud." 

"Come," said Shaw; "at any rate we can see for our- 
selves." 

We set out together ; and as we approached the bushes, 
which were at some distance, we found the ground becom- 
ing rather treacherous. We could only get along by step- 
ping upon large clumps of tall rank glass, with fathomless 
gulfs between, like innumerable little quaking islands in an 
ocean of mud, where a false step would have involved our 
boots in a catastrophe like that which had befallen Deslau- 
riers's moccasins. The thing looked desperate; we sepa- 
rated so as to search in different directions, Shaw going 
off to the right, while I kept straight forward. At last I 
came to the edge of the bushes: they w^re young water- 
willows, covered with their caterpillar-like blossoms, but 
intervening between them and the last grass clump was a 
black and deep slough, over which, by a vigorous exertion, 
I contrived to jump. Then I shouldered my way through 
the willows, tramping them down by main force, till I 
came to a wide stream of water, three inches deep, lan- 
guidly creeping along over a bottom of sleek mud. My 
arrival produced a great commotion. A huge green bull- 
frog uttered an indignant croak, and jumped off the bank 
with a loud splash : his webbed feet twinkled above the 
surface, as he jerked them energetically upward, and I could 
see him ensconcing himself in the unresisting slime at the 
bottom, whence several large air bubbles struggled lazily to 
the top. Some little spotted frogs instantl)^ followed the 



58 The Oregon Trail 

patriarch's example; and then three turtles, not larger than 
a dollar, tumbled themselves off a broad "lily pad" where 
they had been reposing. At the same time a snake, gayly 
striped with black and yellow, glided out from the bank 
and writhed across to the other side ; and a small stagnant 
pool into which my foot had Inadvertently pushed a stone 
was instantly alive with a congregation of black tadpoles. 

"Any chance for a bath where you are?" called out 
Shaw, from a distance. 

The answer was not encouraging. I retreated through 
the willows, and rejoining my companion, we proceeded 
to push our researches In compan5\ Not far on the right 
a rising ground, covered with trees and bushes, seemed to 
sink down abruptly to the water, and give hope of better 
success ; so toward this we directed our steps. When we 
reached the place we found It no easy matter to get along 
between the hill and the water. Impeded as we were by a 
growth of stiff, obstinate )^oung birch-trees, laced together 
by grape-vines. In the twilight we now and then, to sup- 
port ourselves, snatched at the touch-me-not stem of some 
ancient sweet-brier. Shaw, who was in advance, suddenly 
uttered a somewhat emphatic monosyllable; and looking up 
I saw him with one hand grasping a sapling, and one foot 
immersed In the water, from which he had forgotten to 
withdraw It, his whole attention being engaged in contem- 
plating the movements of a water-snake, about fiv^e feet 
long, curiously checkered with black and green, who was 
deliberately swimming across the pool. There being no stick 
or stone at hand to pelt him with, w^e looked at him for a 
time in silent disgust; and then pushed forward. Our per- 
severance was at last rewarded; for several rods farther on, 
we emerged upon a little level grassy nook among the 
brushwood, and by an extraordinary dispensation of for- 
tune, the weeds and floating sticks, which elsewhere cov- 
ered the pool, seemed to have drawn apart, and left a few 



The Big Blue 59 

j'ards of clear water just in front of this favored spot. We 
sounded it with a stick; it was four feet deep; we lifted a 
specimen in our closed hands; it seemed reasonably trans- 
parent, so we decided that the time for action was arrived. 
But our ablutions were suddenly interrupted by ten thou- 
sand punctures, like poisoned needles, and the humming of 
myriads of overgrown mosquitoes, rising in all directions from 
their native mud and slime and swarming to the feast. We 
were fain to beat a retreat with all possible speed. 

We made toward the tents, much refreshed by the bath 
which the heat of the weather, joined to our prejudices, 
had rendered very desirable. 

"What's the matter with the captain? look at him!" 
said Shaw. The captain stood alone on the prairie, swing- 
ing his hat violently around his head, and lifting first one 
foot and then the other, without moving from the spot. 
First he looked down to the ground with an air of supreme 
abhorrence; then he gazed upward with a perplexed and 
indignant countenance, as if trying to trace the flight of an 
unseen enemj^ We called to know what was the matter; 
but he replied only by execrations directed against some 
unknown object. We approached, when our ears were 
saluted by a droning sound, as if twenty bee-hives had been 
overturned at once. The air above was full of large black 
insects, in a state of great commotion, and multitudes were 
flying about just above the tops of the grass blades. 

"Don't be afraid," called the captain, observing us recoil. 
"The brutes won't sting." 

At this I knocked one down with my hat, and discovered 
him to be no other than a "dor-bug" ; and looking closer, 
we found the ground thickly perforated with their holes. 

We took a hasty leave of this flourishing colony, and 
walking up the rising ground to the tents, found Deslau- 
riers's fire still glowing brightly. We sat down around it, 
and Shaw beean to expatiate on the admirable facilities for 



60 The Oregon Trail 

bathing that we had discovered, and recommended the cap- 
tain by all means to go down there before breakfast in the 
morning. The captain was in the act of remarking that 
he couldn't have believed it possible, when he suddenly 
interrupted himself and clapped his hand to his cheek, 
exclaiming that "those infernal humbugs w^ere at him again." 
In fact, we began to hear sounds as if bullets were hum- 
ming over our heads. In a moment something rapped me 
sharply on the forehead, then upon the neck, and immedi- 
ately I felt an indefinite number of sharp wiry claws in 
active motion, as if their ow^ner were bent on pushing his 
explorations farther. I seized him, and dropped him into 
the fire. Our party speedily broke up, and w^e adjourned 
to our respective tents, where, closing the opening fast, we 
hoped to be exempt from invasion. But all precaution was 
fruitless. The dor-bugs hummed through the tent, and 
marched over our faces until daylight; when, opening our 
blankets, we found several dozen clinging there with the 
utmost tenacity. The first object that met our eyes in the 
morning was Deslauriers, who seemed to be apostrophizing 
his frying pan, which he held by the handle at arm's length. 
It appeared that he had left it at night by the fire and the 
bottom w^as now covered with dor-bugs, firmly imbedded. 
Multitudes beside, curiously parched and shriveled, lay scat- 
tered among the ashes. 

The horses and mules were turned loose to feed. We 
had just taken Our seats at breakfast, or rather reclined in 
the classic mode, when an explamation from Henry Chatil- 
lon, and a shout of alarm from the captain, gave warning 
of some casualty, and looking up, we saw the whole band 
of animals, twenty-three in number, filing off for the set- 
tlements, the incorrigible Pontiac at their head, jumping 
along with hobbled feet, at a gait much more rapid than 
graceful. Three or four of us ran to cut them off, dashing 
as best we might through the tall grass, which was glitter- 



The Big Blue 61 

ing with myriads of dewdrops. . After a race of a mile or 
more, Shaw caught a horse. Tying the trail-rope by way of 
bridle round the animal's jaw, and leaping upon his back, 
he got in advance of the remaining fugitives, while we, soon 
bringing them together, drove them in a crowd up to the 
tents, where each man caught and saddled his own. Then 
were heard lamentations and curses; for half the horses 
had broke their hobbles, and many were seriously galled 
by attempting to run in fetters. 

It was late that morning before we were on the march ; 
and early in the afternoon we were compelled to encamp, 
for a thunder-gust came up and suddenly enveloped us in 
whirling sheets of rain. With much ado, we pitched our 
tents amid the tempest, and all night long the thunder bel- 
lowed and growled over our heads. In the morning, light 
peaceful showers succeeded the cataracts of rain that had 
been drenching us through the canvas of our tents. About 
noon, when there, were some treacherous indications of fair 
weather, we got in motion again. 

Not a breath of air stirred over the free and open prairie ; 
the clouds w^ere like light piles of cotton ; and where the 
blue sky was visible, it wore a hazy and languid aspect. 
The sun beat down upon us with a sultry, penetrating heat 
almost insupportable ; and as our party crept slowly along 
over the interminable level, the horses hung their heads as 
they waded fetlock deep through the mud, and the men 
slouched into the easiest position upon the saddle. At last, 
toward evening, the old familiar black heads of thunder- 
clouds rose fast above the horizon, and the same deep mut- 
tering of distant thunder that had become the ordinary 
accompaniment of our afternoon's journey began to roll 
hoarsely over the prairie. Only a few minutes elapsed before 
the whole sky was densely shrouded, and the prairie and 
some clusters of woods in front assumed a purple hue beneath 
the inky shadow^s. Suddenly from the densest fold of the 



62 The Oregon Trail 

cloud the flash leaped out, quivering again and again down 
•to the edge of the prairie ; and at the same instant came the 
sharp burst and the long rolling peal of the thunder. A cool 
wind, filled with the smell of rain, just then overtook us, 
leveling the tall grass by the side of the path. 

"Come on; we must ride for it!" shouted Shaw, rushing 
past at full speed, his led horse snorting at his side. The 
whole party broke into full gallop, and made for the trees 
in front. Passing these, we found beyond them a meadow 
which they half enclosed. We rode pell-mell upon the 
ground, leaped from horseback, tore off our saddles; and in 
a moment each man was kneeling at his horse's feet. The 
hobbles were adjusted, and the animals turned loose; then 
as the wagons came w4ieeling rapidly to the spot, w^e seized 
upon the tent-poles, and just as the storm broke, we were 
prepared to receive it. It came upon us almost with the 
darkness of night; the trees, which were close at hand, were 
completely shrouded by the roaring torrents of rain. 

We wTre sitting in the tent, when Deslauriers, with 
his broad felt hat hanging about his ears and his shoulders 
glistening with rain, thrust in his head. 

"Voulez-vous dii souper, tout de sii'iteT I can make a 
fire, sous la charette" — I b'lieve so — I try." 

"Never mind supper, man; come in out of the rain." 

Deslauriers accordingly crouched in the entrance, for 
modesty would not permit him to intrude farther. 

Our tent was none of the best defense against such a 
cataract. The rain could not enter bodily, but it beat 
through the canvass in a fine drizzle that wetted us just as 
effectually. We sat upon our saddles w^ith faces of the 
utmost surliness, while the water dropped from the visors 
of our caps and trickled down our cheeks. My india- 
rubber cloak conducted twenty little rapid streamlets to the 

i"Will you have supper now?" 
2" Under the wagon." 



The Big Blue 63 

ground, and Shaw's blanket-coat was saturated like a sponge. 
But what most concerned us was the sight of several pud- 
dles of water rapidly accumulating; one in particular, that 
was gathering around the tent-pole, threatened to overspread 
the whole area w^ithin the tent, holding forth but an indif- 
ferent promise of a comfortable night's rest. Toward sunset, 
however, the storm ceased as suddenly as it began. A bright 
streak of clear red sky appeared above the western verge of 
the prairie, the horizontal rays of the sinking sun streamed 
through it and glittered in a thousand prismatic colors upon 
the dripping groves and the prostrate grass. The pools in 
the tent dwindled and sunk into the saturated soil. 

But all our hopes were delusive. Scarcely had night set 
in when the tumult broke forth anew. The thunder here 
is not like the tame thunder of the Atlantic coast. Bursting 
with a terrific crash directly above our heads, it roared over 
the boundless waste of prairie, seeming to roll around the 
whole circle of the firmament with a peculiar and aw^ful 
reverberation. The lightning flashed all night, playing with 
its livid glare upon the neighboring trees, revealing the vast 
expanse of the plain, and then leaving us shut in as by a 
palpable wall of darkness. 

It did not disturb us much. Now and then a peal awak- 
ened us, and made us conscious of the electric battle that 
was raging, and of the floods that dashed upon the stanch 
canvas over our heads. We lay upon india-rubber cloths 
placed between our blankets and the soil. For awhile they 
excluded the water to admiration ; but w^hen at length it 
accumulated and began to run over the edges, they served 
equally well to retain it, so that toward the end of the night 
we were unconsciously reposing in small pools of rain. 

On finally awakening in the morning the prospect was 
not a cheerful one. The rain no longer poured in torrents; 
but it pattered with a quiet pertinacity upon the strained 
and saturated canvas. We disengaged ourselves from our 



64 The Oregon Trail 

blankets, every fibre of which glistened with little beadlike 
drops of water, and looked out in vain hope of discovering 
some token of fair weather. The clouds, in lead-colored 
volumes, rested upon the dismal verge of the prairie or hung 
sluggishly overhead, while the earth wore an aspect no more 
attractive than the heavens, exhibiting nothing but pools of 
water, grass beaten down, and mud well trampled by our 
mules and horses. Our companions' tent, with an air of 
forlorn and passive misery, and their wagons in like manner, 
drenched and woe-begone, stood not far off. The captain 
was just returning from his morning's inspection of the 
horses. He stalked through the mist and rain with his plaid 
around his shoulders, his little pipe, dingy as an antiquarian 
relic, projecting from beneath his mustache, and his brother 
Jack at his heels. 

"Good-morning, captain." 

"Good-morning to your honors," said the captain, affect- 
ing the Hibernian accent; but at that instant, as he stooped 
to enter the tent, he tripped upon the cords at the entrance, 
and pitched forward against the guns which were strapped 
around the pole in the center. 

"You are nice men, you are!" said he, after an ejacula- 
tion not necessary to be recorded, "to set a man-trap before 
your door every morning to catch your visitors." 

Then he sat down upon Henry Chatillon's saddle. We 
tossed a piece of buffalo robe to Jack, who was looking about 
in some embarrassment. He spread it on the ground, and 
took his seat, with a stolid countenance, at his brother's side. 

"Exhilarating weather, captain !" 

"Oh, delightful, delightful!" replied the captain. "I 
knew it would be so ; so much for starting yesterday at noon I 
I knew how it would turn out; and I said so at the time." 

"You said just the contrary to us. We were in no hurry, 
and only moved because you insisted on it." 

"Gentlemen," said the captain, taking his pipe from his 



The Big Blue 65 

mouth with an air of extreme gravity, "it was no plan of 
mine. There is a man among us who is determined to have 
everything his own way. You may express your opinion, 
but don't expect him to listen. You may be as reasonable 
as you like; oh, it all goes for nothing! That man is resolved 
to rule the roast, and he'll set his face against any plan that 
he didn't think of himself." 

The captain puffed for a while at his pipe, as if meditating 
upon his grievances ; then he began again : 

"For twenty j^ears I have been in the British army; and 
in all that time I never had half so much dissension, and 
quarreling, and nonsense, as since I have been on this cursed 
prairie. He's the most uncomfortable man I ever met." 

"Yes," said Jack; "and don't you know. Bill, how he 
drank up all the coffee last night, and put the rest by for 
himself till the morning!" 

"He pretends to know everything," resumed the captain; 
"nobody must give orders but he! It's oh! we must do this; 
and, oh! we must do that; and the tent must be pitched here, 
and the horses must be picketed there; for nobody knows as 
well as he does." 

We were a little surprised at this disclosure of domestic 
dissensions among our allies, for though we knew of their 
existence, we were not aware of their extent. The persecuted 
captain seeming wholly at a loss as to the course of conduct 
that he should pursue, we recommended him to adopt prompt 
and energetic measures ; but all his military experience had 
failed to teach him the indispensable lesson to be "hard" when 
the emergency requires it. 

"For twenty 5^ears," he repeated, "I have been in the 
British army, and in that time I have been intimately 
acquainted with some tw^o hundred officers, young and old, 
and I never yet quarreled with any man. Oh, 'anything for 
a quiet life!' that's my maxim." 

We intimated that the prairie was hardly the place to 



66 The Oregon Trail 

enjoy a quiet life, but that, in the present circumstances, the 
-best thing he could do toward securing his wished-for tran- | 
quillity, was immediately to put a period to the nuisance that 
disturbed it. But again the captain's easy good-nature recoiled 
from the task. The somew^hat vigorous measures necessary 
to gain the desired result were utterly repugnant to him ; 
he preferred to pocket his griev-ances, still retaining the privi- 
lege of grumbling about them. "Oh, anything for a quiet 
life!" he said again, circling back to his favorite maxim. 

But to glance at the previous history of our transatlantic 
confederates. The captain had sold his commission, and 
was living in bachelor ease and dignity in his paternal halls, 
near Dublin. He hunted, fished, rode steeple-chases, ran 
races, and talked of his former exploits. He was sur- 
rounded with the trophies of his rod and gun ; the w^alls were 
plentifully garnished, he told us, with moose-horns and deer- 
horns, bear-skins, and fox-tails; for the captain's double- 
barreled rifle had seen service in Canada and Jamaica; he 
had killed salmon in Nova Scotia, and trout, by his own 
account, in all the streams of the three kingdoms.^ But in 
an evil hour a seductive stranger came from London ; no 
less a person than R., who, among other multitudinous wan- 
derings, had once been upon the western prairies, and natu- 
rally enough w'as anxious to visit them again. The captain's 
imagination w^as inflamed by the pictures of a hunter's para- 
dise that his guest held forth ; he conceived an ambition to 
add to his other trophies the horns of a buffalo and the 
claws of a grizzly bear ; so he and R. struck a league to 
travel in compan}^ Jack followed his brother as a matter 
of course. Two w^eeks on board the Atlantic steamer brought 
them to Boston ; in tw'o weeks more of hard traveling they 
reached St. Louis, from which a ride of six days carried 
them to the frontier; and here we found them, in the full 
tide of preparation for their journey. 

^England. Scotland, Ireland. 



The Big Blue 67 

We had been throughout on terms of intimacy with the 
captain, but R., the motive power of our companions' branch 
of the expedition, was scarcely known to us. His voice, 
indeed, might be heard incessantly; but at camp he remained 
chiefly within the tent, and on the road he either rode by 
himself, or else remained in close conversation ^vith nis 
friend Wright, the muleteer. As the captain left the tent 
that morning, I observed R. standing by the fire, and having 
nothing else to do, I determined to ascertain, if possible, 
what manner of man he was. He had a book under his 
arm, but just at present he was engrossed in actively super- 
intending the operations of Sorel, the hunter, who was cook- 
ing some corn-bread over the coals for breakfast. R. was a 
well-formed and rather good-looking man, some thirty years 
old, considerably younger than the captain. He wore a 
beard and mustache of the oakum complexion, and his attire 
was altogether more elegant than one ordinarily sees on 
the prairie. He wore his cap on one side of his head ; his 
checked shirt, open in front, was in very neat order, con- 
sidering the circumstances; and his blue pantaloons, of the 
John Bull cut, might once have figured in Bond Street.* 

''Turn over that cake, man! turn it over, quick! Don't 
you see it burning?" 

"It ain't half done," growled Sorel, in the amiable tone 
of a whipped bulldog. 

"It is. Turn it over, I tell you!" 

Sorel, a strong, sullen-looking Canadian, who, from hav- 
ing spent his life among the w^ildest and most remote of the 
Indian tribes, had imbibed much of their dark, vindictive 
spirit, looked ferociously up, as if he longed to leap upon 
his bourgeois and throttle him; but he obeyed the order, 
coming from so experienced an artist. 

"It was a good idea of yours," said I, seating myself 
on the tongue of a wagon, "to bring Indian meal with you." 

lA London thoroughfare noted for its fashionable shops 



68 The Oregon Trail 

"Yes, yes," said R., "it's good bread for the prairie — good 
bread for the prairie. I tell you that's burning again." 

Here he stooped down, and unsheathing the silver- 
mounted hunting-knife in his belt, began to perform the 
part of cook himself; at the same time requesting me to 
hold for a moment the book under his arm, which inter- 
fered with the exercise of these important functions. I 
opened it; it was "Macaulay's Lays";^ and I made some 
remark, expressing my admiration of the w^ork. 

"Yes, yes; a pretty good thing. Macaulay can do better 
than that, though. I know him very w^ell. I have traveled 
with him. Where w^as it w^e first met — at Damascus? No 
no ; it was in Ital}''." 

"So," said I, "you have been over the same ground with 
your countr)-man, the author of 'Eothen'? There has been 
some discussion in America as to who he is. I have heard 
Milnes's^ name mentioned." 

"Milnes's? Oh, no, no, no; not at all. It was King- 
lake^; Kinglake's the man. I know him very well; that is, 
I have seen him." 

Here Jack C, who stood by, interposed a remark (a 
thing not common w^ith him), observing that he thought 
the weather would become fair before twelve o'clock. 

"It's going to rain all day," said R., "and clear up in 
the middle of the night." 

Just then the clouds began to dissipate in a very unequivo- 
cal manner; but Jack, not caring to defend his point against 
so authoritative a declaration, walked away whistling, and 
-vve resumed our conversation. 

"Borrow, the author of 'The Bible in Spain,'"* I presume 
you know him, too?" 

iMacaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome, published in 1842. 

2Richard Monckton Milnes. Lord Houghton, English author, b. 1809, d. 1885. 

^Alexander William Kinglake, b. 1809, d. 1891, author of Eolhen and History 
of the Invasion of the Crimea. Eolhen, published aiionymously in 1844, is an 
account of travels in the East. 

■•Gporge Borrow, b. 1803. d. ISSl 



The Big Blue 69 

"Oh, certainly; I know all those men. By the way, 
they told me that one of your American writers. Judge 
Story,^ had died lately. I edited some of his works in Lon- 
don ; not without faults, though." 

Here followed an erudite commentary on certain points 
of law, in which he particularly animadverted on the errors 
into which he considered that the judge had been betrayed. 
At length, having touched successively on an infinite variety 
of topics, I found that I had the happiness of discovering 
a man equally competent to enlighten me upon them all, 
equally an authority on matters of science or literature, 
philosophy or fashion. The part I bore in the conversation 
was by no means a prominent one; it was only necessary 
to set him going, and when he had run long enough upon 
one topic, to divert him to another and lead him on to pour 
out his heaps of treasure in succession. 

"What has that fellow been saying to you?" said Shaw, 
as I returned to the tent. "I have heard nothing but his 
talking for the last half-hour." 

R. had none of the peculiar traits of the ordinary "Brit- 
ish snob"; his absurdities were all his own, belonging to no 
particular nation or clime. He was possessed w^ith an active 
devil that had driven him over land and sea, to no great 
purpose, as it seemed ; for although he had the usual com- 
plement of eyes and ears, the avenues between these organs 
and his brain appeared remarkably narrow and untrodden. 
His energy was much more conspicuous than his wisdom ; 
but his predominant characteristic was a magnanimous ambi- 
tion to exercise on all occasions an awful rule and suprem- 
acy and this propensity equally displa5^ed itself, as the 
reader will have observed, whether the matter in question 
was the baking of a hoe-cake or a point of international 
law. When such diverse elements as he and the easy-tem- 

ijoseph Story, associate justice of the Supreme Court of the United Spates, 
and one of the most eminent of American jurists, b. 1779, d. 1845. 



70 The Oregon Trail 

pered captain came in contact, no wonder some commotion 
ensued; R. rode rough-shod, from morning till night, over 
his military all)^ 

At noon the sky was cleai' and we set out, trailing through \ 
mud and slime six inches deep. That night we w^re spared 
the customary infliction of the shower bath. 

On the next afternoon we were moving slowly along, 
not far from a patch of woods which lay on the right. Jack 
C. rode a little in advance ; 

The livelong day he had not spoke^; 

when suddenly he faced about, pointed to the woods, and 
roared out to his brother: 

"O Bill! here's a cow!" 

The captain instantly galloped forward, and he and Jack 
made a vain attempt to capture the prize; but the cow, with 
a well-grounded distrust of their intentions, took refuge 
among the trees. R. joined them, and they soon drove her 
out. We watched their evolutions as they galloped around 
her, trying in vain to noose her with their trail-ropes, which 
they had converted into lariettes' for the occasion. At length 
they resorted to milder measures, and the cow^ was driven 
along with the party. Soon after the usual thunderstorm 
came up, the wind blowing with such fury that the streams 
of rain flew almost horizontally along the prairie, roaring 
like a cataract. The horses turned tail to the storm, and 
stood hanging their heads, bearing the infliction with an air 
of meekness and resignation ; while we drew our heads 
between our shoulders and crouched forward, so as to make 
our backs serve as a penthouse for the rest of our persons. 
Meanwhile the cow, taking advantage of the tumult, ran off, 
to the great discomfiture of the captain, who seemed to con- 
sider her as his own especial prize, since she had been dis- 
covered by Jack. In defiance of the storm, he pulled his 

iScott. Marmion, Canto III, Stanza 13. 
^English, "lariats." 



The Big Blue 71 

cap tight over his brows, jerked a huge buffalo pistol from 
his holster, rnd set out at full speed after her. This was 
the last we saw oi them for some time, the mist and rain 
making an impenetrable veil ; but at length we heard the 
captain's shout, and saw him looming through the tempest, 
the picture of a Hibernian cavalier, with his cocked pistol 
held aloft for safety's sake, and a countenance of anxiety 
and excitement. The cow trotted before him, but exhibited 
evident signs of an intention to run off again, and the cap- 
tain was roaring to us to head her. But the rain had got in 
behind our coat collars, and was traveling over our necks 
in numerous little streamlets ; and being afraid to move our 
heads for fear of admitting more, we sat stiff and immovable, 
looking at the captain askance and laughing at his frantic 
movements. At last the cow made a sudden plunge and ran 
off; the captain grasped his pistol firmly, spurred his horse, 
and galloped after, with evident designs of mischief. In a 
moment we heard the faint report, deadened by the rain, and 
then the conqueror and his victim reappeared, the latter shot 
through the body, and quite helpless. Not long after the 
storm moderated, and we advanced again. The cow walked 
painfully along under the charge of Jack, to whom the cap- 
tain had committed her, while he himself rode forward in 
his old capacity of vedette. We were approaching a long 
line of trees that followed a stream stretching across our 
path, far in front, when we beheld the vedette galloping 
toward us, apparently much excited, but with a broad grin 
on his face. 

"Let that cow drop behind!" he shouted to us; "here's 
her owners!" "■ 

And in fact, as we approached the line of trees, a large 
white object, like a tent, was visible behind them. On 
approaching, however, we found, instead of the expected 
Mormon camp, nothing but the lonely prairie, and a large 
white rock standing by the path. The cow therefore 



72 The Oregon Trail 

resumed her place in our procession. She walked on until 
we encamped, when R., firmly approaching with his enor- 
mous English double-barreled rifle, calmly and deliberately 
took aim at her heart, and discharged into it first one bullet 
and then the other. She was then butchered on the most 
approved principles of woodcraft, and furnished a very wel- 
come item to our somewhat limited bill of fare. 

In a day or two more we reached the. river called the 
"Big Blue."^ By titles equally elegant alm.ost all the streams 
of this region are designated. We had struggled through 
ditches and little brooks all that morning; but on travers- 
ing the dense woods that lined the banks of the Blue, we 
found that more formidable difficulties awaited us, for the 
stream, swollen by the rains, was wide, deep, and rapid. 

No sooner were we on the spot than R. had flung off 
his clothes, and was swimming across or splashing through 
the shallows, with the end of a rope between his teeth. We 
all looked on in admiration, wondering what might be the 
design of this energetic preparation ; but soon we heard him 
shouting: "Give that rope a turn round that stump! You, 
Sorel : do you hear ? Look sharp now, Boisverd ! Come over 
to this side, some of )'ou, and help meV The men to whom 
these orders were directed paid not the least attention to 
them, though they were poured out without pause or inter- 
mission. Henry Chatillon directed the work, and it pro- 
ceeded quietly and rapidly. R.'s sharp brattling voice might 
have been heard incessantly; and he was leaping about with 
the utmost activity, multiplying himself, after the manner 
of great commanders, as if his universal presence and super- 
vision were of the last necessity. His commands were rather 
amusingly inconsistent ; for when he saw that the men would 
not do as he told them, he wisely accommodated himself to 
circumstances, and with the utmost vehemence ordered them 

lA tributary of the Kansas River, flowing into the latter from the north at 
Manhattan, Kansas. 



The Big Blue 73 

to do precisely that which they were at the time engaged 
upon, no doubt recollecting the story of Mahomet and the 
refractory mountain/ Shaw smiled significantly; R. observed 
it, and, approaching with a countenance of lofty indignation, 
began to vapor a little, but was instantly reduced to silence. 
The raft was at length complete. We piled our goods 
upon it, with the exception of our guns, which each man 
chose to retain in his own keeping. Sorel, Boisverd, Wright 
and Deslauriers took their stations at the four corners, to 
hold it together and swim across with it ; and in a moment 
more, all our earthly possessions were floating on the turbid 
waters of the Big Blue. We sat on the bank, anxiously 
watching the result, until we saw the raft safe landed in a 
little cove far down on the opposite bank. The empty 
• wagons were easily passed across ; and then each man mount- 
ing a horse, we rode through the stream, the stray animals 
following of their own accord. 

i"If the hill will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the hill." Bacon's 
Essays, Of Boldness- 



CHAPTER VI 

THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 

We were now arrived at the close of our solitary jour- 
neyings along the St. Joseph trail. On the evening of the 
twenty-third of May we encamped near its junction with the 
old legitimate^ trail of the Oregon emigrants. We had 
ridden long th-at afternoon, trying in vain to find wood and 
water, until at length we saw the sunset sky reflected from 
a pool encircled by bushes and a rock or two. The water 
lay in the bottom of a hollow, the sm.ooth prairie gracefully 
rising in oceanlike swells on every side. We pitched our 
tents by it; not, however, before the keen eye of Henry 
Chatillon had discerned some unusual object upon the faintly 
defined outline of the distant swell. But in the moist, hazy 
atmosphere of the evening, nothing could be clearly distin- 
guished. As we lay around the fire after supper, a low and 
distant sound, strange enough amid the loneliness of the 
prairie, reached our ears — ^peals of laughter, and the faint 
voices of men and women. For eight days we had not 
encountered a human being, and this singular warning of 
their vicinity had an effect extremely wild and impressive. 

About dark a sallow-faced fellow descended the hill on 
horseback, and, splashing through the pool, rode up to the 
tents. He w^as enveloped in a huge cloak, and his broad 
felt hat was w^eeping about his ears with the drizzling 
moisture of the evening. Another followed, a stout, square 
built, intelligent looking man, who announced himself as 
leader of an emigrant party encamped a mile in advance of 
us. About twenty wagons, he said, were with him; the 
rest of his party were on the other side of the Big Blue. . . . 

These were the first emigrants that we had overtaken, 

iThe main, or California, trail leading west from St. Joseph, Missouri. 

74 



The Platte and the Desert 75 

although we had found abundant and melancholy traces of 
their progress throughout the whole course of the journey. 
Sometimes we passed the grave of one who had sickened and 
died on the way. The earth was usually torn up, and 
covered thickly with w^olf-tracks. Some had escaped this 
violation. One morning a piece of plank, standing upright 
on the summit of a grassy hill, attracted our notice, and 
riding up to It we found the following words very roughly 
traced upon It, apparently by a red-hot olece of Iron: 

MARY ELLIS. 

DIED MAY 7th, 1845. 

Aged two months. 

Such tokens were of common occurrence. Nothing could 
speak more for the hardihood, or rather Infatuation, of the 
adventurers, or the sufferings that await them upon the 
journey. 

We were late In breaking up our camp on the following 
morning, and scarcely had we ridden a mile when w^e saw, 
far In advance of us, drawn against the horizon, a line of 
objects stretching at regular Intervals along the level edge 
of the prairie. An Intervening swell soon hid them from 
sight, until, ascending It a quarter of an hour after, we saw 
close before us the emigrant caravan, with Its heavy white 
wagons creeping on In their slow procession, and a large 
drove of cattle following behind. Half a dozen yellow- 
vlsaged Missourians, mounted on horseback, were cursing 
and shouting among them; their lank angular proportions 
enveloped In brown homespun, evidently cut and adjusted by 
the hands of a domestic female tailor. As we approached, 
they greeted us with the polished salutation: "How are ye, 
boys? Are ye for Oregon or California?" 

As we pushed rapidly past the wagons, children's faces 
were thrust out from the w^hlte coverings to look at us; 
while the care-worn, thin-featured matron, or the buxom 



76 The Oregon Trail 

girl, seated in front, suspended the knitting on which most 
of them were engaged to stare at us with wondering curios- 
ity. By the side of each wagon stalked the proprietor, urging 
on his patient oxen, who shouldered heavily along, inch by 
inch, on their interminable journey. It was easy to see that 
fear and dissension prevailed among them ; some of the men 
— but these, with one exception, were bachelors — looked wist- 
fully upon us as we rode lightly and swiftly past, and then 
impatiently at their own lumbering wagons and heavy-gaited 
oxen. Others were unwilling to advance at all until the 
party they had left behind should have rejoined them. Many 
were murmuring against the leader they had chosen, and 
wished to depose him; and this discontent was fomented by 
some ambitious spirits who had hopes of succeeding in his 
place. The women v/ere divided between regrets for the 
homes they had left and apprehension of the deserts and the 
savages before them. 

We soon left them far behind, and fondly hoped that we 
had taken a final leave; but unluckily our companions' wagon 
stuck so long in a deep muddy ditch that, before it was extri- 
cated, the van of the emigrant caravan appeared again, 
descending a ridge close at hand. Wagon after wagon 
plunged through the mud ; and as it was nearly noon, and 
the place promised shade and water, we saw with much 
gratification that they w^ere resolved to encamp. Soon the 
wagons were wheeled into a circle ; the cattle were grazing 
over the meadow, and the men with sour, sullen faces were 
looking about for wood and water. » They seemed to meet 
with but indifferent success. As we left the ground, I saw 
a tall slouching fellow, with the nasal accent of "dow^n east," 
contemplating the contents of his tin cup, w^hich he had just 
filled w^ith water. 

"Look here, you," he said; "it's chock full of animals!" 
The cup, as he held it out, exhibited in fact an extraor- 
dinary variety and profusion of animal and vegetable life. 



The Platte and the Desert n 

Riding up the little hill and looking back on the. meadow, 
we could easily see that all was not right in the camp of 
the emigrants. The men were crowded together, and an 
angry discussion seemed to be going forward. R. w^as miss- 
ing from his wonted place in the line, and the captain told 
us that he had remained behind to get his horse shod by a 
blacksmith who was attached to the emigrant party. Some- 
thing whispered in our ears that mischief was on foot; we 
kept on, how^ever, and coming soon to a stream of tolerable 
water, we stopped to rest and dine. Still the absentee lin- 
gered behind. At last, at the distance of a mile, he and his 
horse suddenly appeared, sharply defined against the sky on 
the summit of a hill; and close behind, a huge white object 
rose slowly into view. 

"What is that blockhead bringing w^ith him now?" 

A moment dispelled the mystery. Slow^ly and solemnly, 
one behind the other, four long trains of oxen and four 
emigrant wagons rolled over the crest of the declivity and 
gravely descended, w^hile R. rode in state in the van. It 
seems that, during the process of shoeing the horse, the 
smothered dissensions among the emigrants suddenly broke 
into open rupture. Some insisted on pushing forward, some 
on remaining where they were, and some on going back. 
Kearsley, their captain, threw up his command in disgust. 
''And now, boys," said he, "if any of you are for going ahead, 
just you come along with me." 

Four wagons, with ten men, one woman, and one small 
child, made up the force of the "go-ahead" faction, and R., 
with his usual proclivity toward mischief, invited them to 
join our party. Fear of the Indians — for I can conceive of 
no other motive — must have induced him to court so burden- 
some an alliance. As may well be conceived, these repeated 
instances of high-handed dealing sufficiently exasperated us. 
In this case, indeed, the men who joined us w^ere all that 
could be desired ; rude indeed in manner, but frank, manly. 



78 The Oregcn Trail 

and Intelligent. To tell them we could not travel with 
them was, of course, out of the question. I merely reminded 
Kearsley that if his oxen could not keep up with our mules 
he must expect to be left behind, as w^e could not consent 
to be further delayed on the journey; but he immediately 
replied, that his oxen "should keep up; and if they couldn't, 
why he allowed that he'd find out how to make 'em!" Hav- 
ing availed myself of what satisfaction could be derived from 
giving R. to understand my opinion of his conduct, I returned 
to our side of the camp. 

On the next day, as it chanced, our English companions 
broke the axle-tree of their wagon, and down came the whole 
cumbrous machine lumbering into the bed of a brook ! Here 
was a day's w^ork cut out for us. Meanwhile, our emigrant 
associates kept on their way, and so vigorously did they urge 
forward their powerful oxen that, with the broken axle-tree 
and other calamities. It was full a week before we overtook 
them; when at length we discovered them, one afternoon, 
crawling quietly along the sandy brink of the Platte. But 
meanwhile various incidents occurred to ourselves. 

It was probable that at this stage of our journey the 
Pawnees would attempt to rob us. We began therefore to 
stand guard in turn, dividing the night into three watches, 
and appointing two men for each. Deslaurlers and I held 
guard together. We did not march with military precision 
to and fro before the tents; our discipline was by no means 
so stringent and rigid. We wrapped ourselves in our blan- 
kets and sat down by the fire ; and Deslaurlers, combining 
his culinary functions with his duties as sentinel, employed 
himself in boiling the head of an antelope for our morning's 
repast. Yet we w^ere models of vigilance in comparison 
with some of the party ; for the ordinary practice of the 
guard was to establish himself in the most comfortable 
posture he could, lay his rifle on the ground, and enveloping 
his nose in the blanket, meditate on whatever subject best 



The Platte and the Desert 79 

pleased him. This is all well enough when among Indians 
who do not habitually proceed further in their hostility than 
robbing travelers of their horses and mules ; though, indeed, 
a Pawnee's forbearance is not always to be trusted ; but 
in certain regions farther to the west, the guard must beware 
how he exposes his person to the light of the fire, lest per- 
chance some keen-eyed skulking marksman should let fly a 
bullet or an arrow from amid the darkness. 

Among the various tales that circulated arouna our camp 
fire was a rather curious one, told by Boisverd, and not 
inappropriate here. Boisverd was trapping with several 
companions on the skirts of the Blackfoot country. The 
man on guard, well knowing that it behooved him to put 
forth his utmost precaution, kept aloof from the firelight 
and sat watching intently on all sides. At length he was 
aware of a dark, crouching figure stealing noiselessly into 
the circle of the light. He hastily cocked his rifle, but the 
sharp click of the lock caught the ear of Blackfoot, whose 
senses w^ere all on the alert. Raising his arrow, already 
fitted to the string, he shot in the direction cf the sound. 
So sure w^as his aim that he drove it through the throat of 
the unfortunate guard, and then, with a loud yell, bounded 
from the camp. 

As I looked at the partner of my watch, puffing and 
blowing over his fire, it occurred to me that he might not 
prove the most efficient auxiliary in time of trouble. 

"Deslauriers," said I, "would you run awa\ if the Paw- 
nees should fire at us?" 

"Ah! oui, oui, monsieur!" he replied very decisively. 

I did not doubt the fact, but was a little surprised at the 
frankness of the confession. 

At this instant a most whimsical variety of voices — barks, 
howls, yelps, and whines — all mingled as it were together, 
sounded from the prairie not far off, as if a whole conclave 
of wolves of every age and sex were assembled there. Des- 



80 The Oregon Trail 

laurlers looked up from his work with a laugh, and began 
to imitate this curious medley of sounds with a most ludi- 
crous accuracy. At this they were repeated with redoubled 
emphasis, the musician being apparently indignant at the 
successful efforts of a rival. They all proceeded from the 
throat of one little wolf, not larger than a spaniel, seaied 
by himself at some distance. He was of the species called 
the prairie wolf; a grim-visaged but harmless little brute, 
whose worst propensity is creeping among horses and gnaw- 
ing the ropes of raw hide by which they are picketed around 
the camp. But other beasts roam the prairies, far more 
formidable in aspect and in character. These are the large 
white and gray w^olves, whose deep howl we heard at inter- 
vals from far and near. 

At last^J fell into a doze, and, awakening from it, found 
Deslauriers fast asleep. Scandalized by this breach of dis- 
cipline, I was about to stimulate his vigilance by stirring 
him with the stock of my rifle; but compassion prevailing, 
I determined to let him sleep awhile, and then to arouse 
him and administer a suitable reproof for such a forgetful- 
ness of duty. Now and then I w^alked the rounds among 
the silent horses, to see that all was right. The night was 
chill, damp, and dark, the dank grass bending under the 
icy dewdrops. At the distance of a rod or two the tents 
were invisible, and nothing could be seen but the obscure 
figures of the horses, deeply breathing and restlessly starting 
as they slept, or still slowly champing the grass. Far off, 
beyond the black outline of the prairie, there was a ruddy 
light, gradually increasing, like the glow of a conflagration : 
until at length the broad disk of the moon, blood-red, and 
vastly magnified by the vapors, rose slowly upon the dark- 
ness, flecked by one or two little clouds; and as the light 
poured over the gloomy plain, a fierce and stern howl, close 
at hand, seemed to greet it as an unwelcome intrii>r. There 
was something impressive and awful in th.^ place and the 



The Platte and the Desert 81 

hour ; for I and the beasts were all that had consciousness 
for many a league around. 

Some days elapsed, and brought us near the Platte. Two 
men on horseback approached us one morning, and we 
watched them with the curiosity and interest that, upon the 
solitude, of the plains, such an encounter always excites. 
They were evidently whites, from their mode of riding, 
though, contrary to the usage of that region, neither of them 
carried a rifle. 

'Tools!" remarked Henry Chatillon, *'to ride that w^ay 
on the prairie; Pawnee find them — then they catch it!" 

Pawnee had found them, and they had come very near 
^'catching it"; indeed, nothing saved them from trouble but 
the approach of our party. Shaw and I knew one of them, 
a man named Turner, whom we had seen at Westport. He 
and his companion belonged to an emigrant party encamped 
a few miles in advance, and had returned to look for some 
stray oxen, leaving their rifles, with characteristic rashness or 
ignorance, behind them. Their neglect had nearly cost them 
dear; for just before we came up, half a dozen Indians 
approached, and seeing them apparently defenseless, one of 
the rascals seized the bridle of Turner's fine horse and 
ordered him to dismount. Turner was wholly unarmed; but 
the other jerked a little revolving pistoF out of his pocket, 
at which the Pawnee recoiled; and just then some of our 
men appearing in the distance, the whole party whipped 
their rugged little horses and made off. In no way daunted, 
Turner foolishly persisted in going forward. 

Long after leaving him, and late this afternoon, in the 
midst of a gloomy and barren prairie, we came suddenly 
upon the great Pawnee trail, leading from their villages on 
the Platte to their war and hunting grounds to the south- 
ward. Here every summer pass the motley concourse : thou- 
sands of savages, men, women, and children, horses and 

'Revolvers were at that time uncommon. 



82 The Oregon Trail 

mules, laden with their weapons and implements, and an 
innumerable multitude of unruly wolfish dogs, who have 
not acquired the civilized accomplishment of barking, but 
howl like their wild cousins of the prairie. 

The permanent winter villages of the Pawnees stand on 
the lower Platte, but throughout the summer the greater 
part of the inhabitants are wandering over the plains, a 
treacherous, cowardly banditti, who by a thousand acts of 
pillage and murder have deserved summary chastisement at 
the hands of governm.ent. Last year a Dakota warrior 
performed a signal exploit at one of these villages. He 
approached it alone in the middle of a dark night, and clam- 
bering up the outside of one of the lodges, which are in the 
form of a half-sphere, he looked in at the round hole made 
at the top for the escape of smoke. The dusky light from 
the smoldering embers showed him the forms of the sleeping 
inmates ; and dropping lightly through the opening, he 
unsheathed his knife, and stirring the iire coolly selected his 
victims. One by one he stabbed and scalped them, when a 
child suddenly awoke and screamed. He rushed from the 
lodge, yelled a Sioux war-cry, shouted his name in triumph 
and defiance, and in a moment had darted out upon the 
dark prairie, leaving the whole village behind him in a tumult, 
with the howling and baying of dogs, the screams of w^omen, 
and the yells of the enraged warriors. 

Our friend Kearsley, as \^e learned on rejoining him, 
signalized himself by a less bloody achievement. He and 
his men were good w^oodsmen, and well skilled in the use 
of the rifle, but found themselves wholly out of their ele- 
ment on the prairie. None of them had ever seen a buf- 
falo, and they had very vague conceptions of his nature and 
appearance. On the day after they reached the Platte, look- 
ing toward a distant swell, they beheld a multitude of little 
black specks in motion upon its surface. 

"Take 3'our rifles, boys," said Kearsley, "and we'll have 



The Platte axd the Desert 83 

fresh meat for supper." This inducement was quite suf- 
ficient. The ten men left their wagons and set out in hot 
haste, some on horseback and some on foot, in pursuit of the 
supposed buffalo. Meanwhile a high grassy ridge shut the 
game from view; but mounting it after half an hour's run- 
ning and riding, they found themselves suddenly confronted 
by about thirty mounted Paw^nees ! The amazement and 
consternation were mutual. Having nothing but their bows 
and arrows, the Indians thought their hour was come, and 
the fate that they were no doubt conscious of richly deserv- 
ing about to overtake them. So they began, one and all, to 
shout forth the most cordial salutations of friendship, running 
up with extreme earnestness to shake hands with the Mis- 
sourians, who were as much rejoiced as they were to escape 
the expected conflict. 

A low undulating line of sand-hills bounded the horizon 
before us. That day we rode ten consecutive hours, and 
it was dusk before we entered the hollows and gorges of 
these gloomy little hills. At length w^e gained the summit, and 
the long expected valley of the Platte lay before us. We all 
drew rein, and, gathering in a knot on the crest of the hill, 
sat joyfully looking down upon the prospect. It was right 
welcome ; strange too, and striking to the imagination ; and 
yet it had not one picturesque or beautiful feature, nor had 
it any of the features of grandeur, other than its vast extent, 
its solitude, and its wildness. For league after league a plain 
as level as a frozen lake was outspread beneath us ; here and 
there the Platte, divided into a dozen threadlike sluices, was 
traversing it, and an occasional clump of w^ood, rising in the 
midst like a shadowy island, relieved the monotony of the 
waste. No living thing was moving throughout the vast 
landscape, except the lizards that darted over the sand and 
through the rank grass and prickly pear just at our feet. 
And yet stern and wild associations gave a singular interest 
to the view ; for here each man lives by the strength of his 



84 The Oregon Trail 

arm and the valor of his heart. Here society Is reduced to 
its original elements, the whole fabric of art and conven- 
tionality is struck rudely to pieces, and men find themselves 
suddenly brought back to the wants and resources of their 
original natures. 

We had passed the more toilsome and monotonous part 
of the journey; but four hundred miles still intervened 
between us and Fort Laramie, and to reach that point cost 
us the travel of three additional weeks. During the whole 
of this time w^e were passing up the center of a long narrow 
sandy plain, reaching like an outstretched belt nearly to the 
Rocky Mountains. Two lines of sand-hills, broken often 
into the wildest and most fantastic forms, flanked the valley 
rt the distance of a mile or two on the right and left; w^hile 
Leyond them lay a barren, trackless waste — the Great Ameri- 
can Desert — extending for hundreds of miles to the Arkansas 
on the one side, and the Missouri on the other. Before us 
and behind us, the level monotony of the plain was unbroken 
as far as the eye could reach. Sometimes it glared in the 
sun, an expanse of hot, bare sand ; sometimes It was veiled 
by long, coarse grass. Huge skulls and whitening bones of 
buffalo were scattered everywhere ; the ground was tracked 
by myriads of them, and often covered with the circular 
indentations where the bulls had w^allowed in the hot 
weather. From every gorge and ravine, opening from the 
hills, descended deep, well-worn paths, where the buffalo 
issue twice a day in regular procession to drink in the Platte. 
The river itself runs through the midst, a thin sheet of 
rapid, turbid water, half a mile wide and scarce two feet 
deep. Its low banks, for the most part without a bush or a 
tree, are of loose sand, with which the stream Is so charged 
that It grates on the teeth in drinking. The naked landscape 
is, of itself, dreary and monotonous enough; and yet the 
wild beasts and wild men that frequent the valley of the 
Platte make it a scene of interest and excitement to the 



The Platte and the Desert 85 

traveler. Of those who have journeyed there, scarce one, 
perhaps, fails to look back w^ith fond regret to his horse and 
his rifle. 

Early in the morning after we reached the Platte, a long 
procession of squalid savages approached our camp. Each 
was on foot, leading his horse by a rope of bull-hide.^ Hi-s 
attire consisted merely of a scanty cincture and an old buf- 
falo robe, tattered and begrimed by use, which hung over 
his shoulders. His head was close shaven, except a ridge 
of hair reaching over the crown from the center of the fore- 
head, very much like the long bristles on the back of a hyena, 
and he carried his bow and arrows in his hand; while his 
meager little horse w^as laden with dried buffalo meat, the 
produce of his hunting. Such were the first specimens that 
we met — and very indifferent ones they were — of the genu- 
ine savages of the prairie. 

They were the Pawnees whom Kearsley had encountered 
the day before, and belonged to a large hunting party known 
to be ranging the prairie in the vicinity. They strode rapidly 
past, within a furlong of our tents, not pausing or looking 
toward us, after the manner of Indians when meditating 
mischief or conscious of ill-desert. I w^ent out and met them, 
and had an amicable conference with the chief, presenting 
him with half a pound of tobacco, at which unmerited bounty 
he expressed much gratification. These fellows, or some of 
their companions, had committed a dastardly outrage upon 
an emigrant party in advance of us. Two men, out on horse- 
back at a distance, were seized by them, but lashing their 
horses, they broke loose and fled. At this the Pawnees raised 
the yell and shot at them, transfixing the hindermost through 
the back with several arrows, while his companion galloped 
away and brought in the news to his party. The panic- 
stricken emigrants remained for several days in camp, not 
daring even to send out in quest of the dead body. 

^The hide of the buffalo bull- 



86r The Oregon Trail 

The reader will recollect Turner, the man whose narrow 
escape was mentioned not long since. We heard that the 
men whom the entreaties of his wife induced to go in search 
of him, found him leisurely driving along his recovered oxen, 
and w^histling in utter contempt of the Pawnee nation. His 
party was encamped within two miles of us; but we passed 
them that morning, while the men were driving in the oxen 
and the women packing their domestic utensils and their 
numerous offspring in the spacious patriarchal wagons. As 
w^e looked back we saw their caravan dragging its slow 
' length along the plain, wearily toiling on its way to found 
new empires in the West. 

Our New England climate is mild and equable compared 
with that of the Platte. This vtry morning, for instance, 
was close and sultry, the sun rising with a faint oppressive 
heat; when suddenly darkness gathered in the west, and a 
furious blast of sleet and hail drove full In our faces, icy 
cold, and urged with such demoniac vehemence that it felt 
like a storm of needles. It was curious to see the horses; 
they faced about in extreme displeasure, holding their tails 
like whipped dogs, and shivering as the angry gusts, howling 
louder than a concert of wolves, swept over us. Wright's 
long train of mules came sweeping round before the storm 
like a flight of brown snowbirds driven by a w^inter tempest. 
Thus w^e all remained stationary for some minutes, crouch- 
ing close to our horses' necks, much too surly to speak, though 
once the captain looked up from between the collars of his 
coat, his face blood-red, and the muscles of his mouth con- 
tracted by the cold into a most ludicrous grin of agony. 
He grumbled something that sounded like a curse, directed, 
as we believed, against the unhappy hour when he had first 
thought of leaving home. The thing w^as too good to last 
long; and the instant the puf^s of wind subsided we erected 
our tents, and remained in camp for the rest of a gloomy 
and lowering day. The emigrants also encamped near at 



The PbAiTE AND THE Desert 87 

hand. We, being first on the ground, had appropriated all 
the wood within reach ; so that our fire alone blazed cheerily. 
Around it soon gathered a group of uncouth figures, shiver- 
ing in the drizzling rain. Conspicuous among them were 
two or three of the half-savage men who spend their reck- 
less lives in trapping among the Rocky Mountains, or in 
trading for the Fur Company In the Indian villages. They 
were all of Canadian extraction; their hard, weather-beaten 
faces and bushy mustaches looked out from beneath the hoods 
of their white capotes^ with a bad and brutish expression, as 
If their owner might be the willing agent of any villainy. 
And such in fact is the character of many of these men. 

On the day following we overtook Kearsley's wagons, 
and thenceforward, for a week or two, we were fellow- 
travelers. One good effect, at least, resulted from the alli- 
ance: it materially diminished the serious fatigue of standing 
guard ; for the party being now more numerous, there were 
longer intervals between each man's turns of duty. 

'Coats with hoods. 



r 



CHAPTER VII 

THE BUFFALO 

Four days on the Platte, and yet no buffalo! Last year's 
signs of them were provokfngly abundant; and wood being 
extremely scarce, we found an admirable substitute in the 
bois de vache^ which burns exactly like peat, producing no 
unpleasant effects. The wagons one morning had left the 
camp ; Shaw and I were already on horseback, but Henry 
Chatillon still sat cross-legged by the dead embers of the 
fire, playing pensively with the lock of his rifle, while his 
sturdy Wyandot pony stood quietly behind him, looking over 
his head. At last he got up, patted the neck of the pony 
(whom, from an exaggerated appreciation of his merits, he 
had christened 'Tive Hundred Dollar"), and then mounted 
with a melancholy air. 

"What is it, Plenry?" 

*'Ah, I feel lonesome; I never been here before; but I 
see away yonder over the buttes, and down there on the 
prairie, black — all black with buffalo!" 

In the afternoon he and I left the party in search of an 
antelope; until at the distance of a mile or two on the right, 
the tall w^hite wagons and the little black specks of horsemen 
were just visible, so slowly advancing that they seemed 
motionless ; and far on the left rose the broken line of 
scorched, desolate sand-hills. The vast plain waved with tall 
rank grass that swept our horses' bellies ; it swayed to and 
fro in billows with the light breeze, and far and near ante- 
lope and wolves were moving through it, the hairy backs 
of the latter alternately appearing and disappearing as they 

'The dry dung of the buffalo, often called "buffalo chips." 

88 



The Buffalo 89 

bounded awkwardly along; while the antelope, with the 
simple curiosity peculiar to them, would often approach us 
closely, their little horns and white throats just visible above 
the grass tops as they gazed eagerly at us with their round, 
black eyes. 

I dismounted, and amused myself with firing at the 
wolves. Henry attentively scrutinized the surrounding land- 
scape ; at length he gave a shout, and called on me to mount 
again, pointing in the direction of the sand-hills. A mile 
and a half from us, two minute black specks slowly traversed 
the face of one of the bare glaring declivities, and disappeared 
behind the summit. "Let us go!" cried Henry, belaboring 
the sides of Five Hundred Dollar; and I following in his 
wake, we galloped rapidly through the rank grass toward 
the base of the hills. 

From one of their openings descended a deep ravine, 
widening as it issued on the prairie. We entered it, and gal- 
loping up, in a moment were surrounded by the bleak sand- 
hills. Half of their steep sides were bare; the rest were 
scantily clothed with clumps of grass and various uncouth 
plants, conspicuous among which appeared the reptile-like 
prickly-pear. They w^re gashed with numberless ravines; 
and as the sky had suddenly darkened and a cold gusty wind 
arisen, the strange shrubs and the dreary hills looked doubly 
wild and desolate. But Henry's face was all eagerness. He 
tore of¥ a little hair from the piece of buffalo robe under 
his saddle, and 'threw it up, to show the course of the wind. 
It blew directly before us. The game were therefore to 
windward, and it was necessary to make our best speed to get 
round them. 

We scrambled from this ravine, and galloping away 
through the hollows, soon found another, winding like a 
snake among the hills, and so deep that it completely con- 
cealed us. We rode up the bottom of it, glancing through 
the shrubbery at its edge, till Henry abruptly jerked his rein 



90 The Oregon Trail 

and slid out of his saddle. Full a quarter of a mile distant, 
on the outline of the farthest hill, a long procession of buf- 
falo were walking, in Indian file, with the utr^ost gravity 
and. deliberation; then more appeared, clambermg from a 
hollow not far off, and ascending, one behind the other, 
the grassy slope of another hill ; then a shaggy head and a 
pair of short broken horns appeared issuing out of a ravine 
close at hand, and with a slow, stately step, one by one, 
the enormous brutes came into view, taking their way across 
the valley, wholly unconscious of an enemy. In a moment 
Henry was worming his w^ay, lying flat on the ground, 
through grass and prickly-pears, toward his Unsuspecting 
victims. He had with him both my rifle and his own. He 
was soon out of sight, and still the buffalo kept issuing into 
the valley. For a long time all was silent; I sat holding 
his horse, and wondering what he was about, when sud- 
dently, in rapid succession, cam.e the sharp reports of the two 
rifles, and the whole line of buffalo, quickening their pace 
into a clumsy trot, gradually disappeared over the ridge of 
the hill. Henry rose to his feet, and stood looking after 
them. 

"You have missed them," said I. 

"Yes," said Henry; "let us go." He descended into the 
ravine, loaded the rifles, and meimted his horse. 

We rode up the hill after the b'iffalo. The herd was 
out of sight when we reached the top, but lying on the 
grass not far off was one quite lifeless, and another violently 
struggling in the death agony. 

"You see I miss him!" remarked Henry. He had fired 
from a distance of more than a hundred and fifty 3'ards, 
and both balls had passed through the lungs — the true mark 
in shooting buffalo. 

The darkness increased, and a driving storm came on. 
Tying our horses to the horns of the victims, Henry began 
the bloody work of dissection, slashing away with the science 



The Buffalo 9i 

of a connoisseur, while I vainly endeavored to imitate him. 
Old Hendrick recoiled w^ith horror and indignation when I 
endeavored to tie the meat to the strings of rawhide, alwajs 
carried for this purpose, dangling at the back of the saddle. 
After some difficulty we overcame his scruples ; and heavily 
burdened with the more eligible portions of the buffalo, we 
set out on our return. Scarcely had w^e emerged from the 
labyrinth of gorges and ravines, and issued upon the open 
prairie, when the pricking sleet came driving, gust upon 
gust, directly in our faces. It was strangely dark, though 
wanting still an hour of sunset. The freezing storm soon 
penetrated to the skin, but the uneasy trot of our heavy- 
gaiied horses kept us warm enough, as we forced them 
unwillingly in the teeth of the sleet and rain by the power- 
ful suasion of our Indian whips. The prairie in this place 
was hard and level. A flourishing colony of prairie dogs 
had burrowed into it in every direction, and the little mounds 
of fresh earth around their holes were about as numerous as 
the hills in a cornfield ; but not a yelp was to be heard ; not 
the nose of a single citizen was visible; all had retired to 
the depths of their burrows, and w^e envied them their dry 
and comfortable habitations. An hour's hard riding showed 
us our tent dimly looming through the storm, one side 
puffed out by the force of the wind, and the other collapsed 
in proportion, while the disconsolate horses stood shivering 
close around, and the wind kept up a dismal whistling in the 
boughs of three old half-dead trees above. Shaw, like a 
patriarch, sat on his saddle in the entrance, with a pipe in 
his mouth and his arms folded, contemplating with cool 
satlsfaciion the piles of meat that we flung on the ground 
before him. A dark and dreary night succeeded ; but the sun 
rose with a heat so sultry and languid that the captain 
excused himself on that account from waylaying an old buf- 
falo bull, who w^ith stupid gravity was walking over the 
prairie to drink at the river. So much for the climate of the 
Platte ! 



92 The Oregon Trail 

But it was not the weather alone that had produced this 
sudden abatement of the sportsmanlike zeal which the cap- 
tain had always professed. He had been out on the after- 
noon before, together with several members of his party; 
but their hunting w^as attended with no other result than 
the loss of one of their best horses, severely injured by 
Sorel in vainly chasing a wounded bull. The captain, 
whose ideas of hard riding were all derived from trans- 
atlantic sources, expressed the utmost amazement at the 
feats of Sorel, who went leaping ravines and dashing at full 
speed up and down the sides of precipitous hills, lashing his 
horse with the recklessness of a Rocky Mountain rider. 
Unfortunately for the poor animal, he was the property of 
R., against w^hom Sorel entertained an unbounded aver- 
sion. The captain himself, it seemed, had also attempted to 
"run" a buffalo, but though a good and practiced horseman, 
he had soon given over the attempt, being astonished and 
utterly disgusted at the nature of the ground he was re- 
quired to ride over. 

Nothing unusual occurred on that day; but on the fol- 
lowing morning Henry Chatillon, looking over the ocean- 
like expanse, saw near the foot of the distant hills some- 
thing that looked like a band of buffalo. He was not sure, 
he said, but at all events, if they were buffalo there was a 
fine chance for a race. Shaw and I at once determined to 
try the speed of our horses. 

"Come, captain ; we'll see w^hich can ride hardest, a 
Yankee or an Irishman." 

But the captain maintained a grave and austere counte- 
nance. He m.ounted his led horse, however, though very 
slowly, and we set out at a trot. The game appeared about 
three miles distant. As w^e proceeded the captain made 
various remarks of doubt and indecisiort, and at length de- 
clared he would have nothing to do with such a breakneck 
business; protesting that he had ridden plenty of steeple- 



The Buffalo 93 

chases in his day, but he never knew what riding was till 
he found himself behind a band of buffalo day before j-es- 
terday. "I am convinced," said the captain, "that 'running' 
is out of the question/ Take my advice now and don't 
attempt it. It's dangerous, and of no use at all." 

"Then why did you come out w^th us? What do. 5'ou 
mean to do?" 

"I shall 'approach,' " replied the captain. 

"You don't mean to 'approach' with 3'our pistols, do 
3^ou? We have all of us left our rifles in the wagons." 

The captain seemed staggered at the suggestion. In 
his characteristic indecision, at setting out, pistols, rifles, 
"running," and "approaching" were mingled in an inextri- 
cable medley in his brain. He trotted on in silence be- 
tween us for a while; but at length he dropped behind, and 
slowly walked his horse back to rejoin the party. Shaw 
and I kept on ; when lo ! as we advanced, the band of buffalo 
were transformed into certain clumps of tall bushes, dotting 
the prairie for a considerable distance. At this ludicrous 
termination of our chase, we followed the example of our 
late ally and turned back toward the party. We were 
skirting the brink of a deep ravine, when we saw Henry and 
the broad-chested pony coming toward us at a gallop. 

"Here's old Papin and Frederic, down from Fort Lara- 
mie!" shouted Henry, long before he came up. We had for 
some days expected this encounter. Papin was the bourgeois' 
of Fort Laramie. He had come down the river with the 
buffalo robes and the beaver^ the produce of the last winter's 
trading. I had among our baggage a letter which I wished 
to commit to their hands ; so requesting Henry to detain the 
boats if he could until my return, I set out after the wagons. 

iThe method of hunting called "running" consists in attacking the buffalo on 
horseback and shooting him with bullets or arrows when at full-speed. In "ap- , 
proaching," the hunter conceals himself and crawls on the ground toward the 
game, or lies in wait to kill them. — Author's note. 

^Head man, principal trader. 

^Bcav^ir skins. 



94 The Oregon Trail "" 

The}^ were about four miles in advance. In half an hour I 
overtook them, got the letter, trotted back upon the trail, and 
looking carefully as I rode, saw a patch of broken, storm- 
blasted trees, and moving near them some little black specks 
like men and horses. Arriving at the place, I found a strange 
assembly. The boats, eleven in number, deep-laden with the 
skins, hugged close to the shore to escape being borne down 
by the swift current. The rowers, swarthy ignoble ]\Iexi- 
cans, turned their brutish faces upward to look as I reached 
the bank. Papin sat in the middle of one of the boats upon 
the canvas covering that protected the robes. He was a stout, 
robust fellow, with a little gray eye that had a peculiarly 
sly twinkle. 'Trederic" also stretched his tall rawboned 
proportions close by the howgeois, and "mountain-men" 
completed the group; some lounging in the boats, some stroll- 
ing on shore ; some attired in gajdy painted buffalo robes like 
Indian dandies ; som.e with hair saturated with red paint, and 
beplastered w^ith glue to their temples; and one bedaubed 
with vermilion upon his forehead and each cheek. They were 
a mongrel race, yet the French blood seemed to predominate ; 
In a few, indeed, might be seen the black snaky eye of the 
Indian half-breed ; and one and all, they seemed to aim at 
assimilating themselves to their savage associates. 

I shook hands with the bourgeois and delivered the let- 
ter; then the boats swung around into the stream and floated 
away. They had reason for haste, for already the voyage 
from Fort Laramie had occupied a full month, and the river 
was growing daily more shallow. Fifty times a day the 
boats had been aground ; Indeed, those who navigate the 
Platte Invariably spend half their time upon sand-bars. Two 
of these boats, the property of private traders, afterward 
separating from the rest, got hopelessly Involved in the 
shallows, not very far from the Pawnee villages, and were 
soon surrounded by a swarm of the Inhabitants. They car- 
ried off everything that they considered valuable, Including 

I 



The Buffalo 95 

most of the -robes ; and amused themselves by tyin^ up the 
men left on guard, and soundly whipping them with sticks. 

We encamped that night upon the bank of the river. 
Among the emigrants there was an ov^grown boy, some 
eighteen years old, with a head as round and about as 
large as a pumpkin, and fever-and-ague fits had d3^ed his 
face of a corresponding color. He w^ore an old white hat, 
tied under his chin with a handkerchief; his body was short 
and stout, but his legs of disproportioned and appalling 
length. I observed him at sunset breasting the hill with 
gigantic strides, and standing against the sky on the sum- 
mit like a colossal pair of tongs. In a moment after v/e 
heard him screaming frantically behind the ridge, and nothing 
doubting that he was in the clutches of Indians or grizzly 
bears, some of the party caught up their rifles and ran to 
the rescue. His outcries, however, proved but an ebullition 
of joyous excitement ; he had chased two little wolf pups 
to their burrow^, and he was on his knees, grubbing aw^ay 
like a dog at the mouth of the hole, to get at them. 

Before morning he caused more serious disquiet in the 
camp. It was his turn to hold the middle guard ; but no 
sooner was he called up than he coolly arranged a pair of 
saddle-bags under a wagon, laid his head upon them, closed 
his eyes, opened his mouth, and fell asleep. The guard on 
our side of the camp, thinking it no part of his duty to look 
after the cattle of the emigrants, contented himself w^ith 
watching our own horses and mules; the wolves, he said, 
were unusually noisy; but still no mischief was anticipated 
until the sun rose, and not a hoof or horn was in sight! 
The cattle were gone ! While Tom was quietly slumbering, 
the wolves had driven them away. 

Then we reaped the fruits of R.'s precious plan of travel- 
ing in company with emigrants. To leave them in their 
distress was not to be thought of, and we felt bound to wait 
until the cattle could be searched for, and, if possible, recov- 



96 The Oregon Trail 

ered. But the reader may be curious to know what punish- 
ment awaited the faithless Tom. By the wholesome law of 
the prairie, he who falls asleep on guard is condemned to 
walk all day, leading his horse by the bridle, and we found 
much fault with our companions for not enforcing such a 
sentence on the offender. Nevertheless, had he been of our 
own party, I have no doubt he would in like manner have 
escaped scot-free. But the emigrants went farther than 
mere forbearance : they decreed that since Tom couldn't 
stand guard without falling asleep, he shouldn't stand guard 
at all, and henceforward his slumbers were unbroken. Estab- 
lishing such a premium on drowsiness could have no very 
beneficial effect upon the vigilance of our sentinels; for it is 
far from agreeable, after riding from sunrise to sunset, to 
feel your slumbers interrupted by the butt of a rifle nudging 
5^our side, and a sleepy voice growling in your ear that you 
must get up, to shiver and freeze for three weary hours at 
midnight. 

''Buffalo! buffalo!" It was but a grim old bull, roam- 
ing the prairie by himself in misanthropic seclusion ; but there 
might be more behind the hills. Dreading the monotony 
and languor of the -camp, Shaw and I saddled our horses, 
buckled our holsters in their places, and set out with Henry 
Chatillon in search of the game. Henry, not intending to 
take part in the chase, but merely conducting us, carried his 
rifle with him, while we left ours behind as incumbrances. 
We rode for some five or six miles, and saw no living thing 
but wolves, snakes, and prairie dogs. 

"This won't do at all," said Shaw. 

"What won't do?" 

"There's no wood about here to make a litter for the 
wounded man ; I have an idea that one of us will need some- 
thing of the sort before the day is over." 

There was some foundation for such an apprehension, 
for the ground was none of the best for a race, and grew 



The Buffalo 97 

worse continually as we proceeded ; indeed it soon became 
desperately bad, consisting of abrupt hills and deep hollows, 
cut by frequent ravines not easy to pass. At length, a mile 
in advance, w^e saw a band of bulls. Some were scattered 
grazing over a green declivity, while the rest were crowded 
more densely together in the wide hollow below. Making 
a circuit to keep out of sight, we rode toward them until 
we ascended a hill w^ithin a furlong of them, beyond which 
nothing intervened that could possibly screen us from their 
view. We dismounted behind the ridge just out of sight, 
drew^ our saddle-girths, examined our pistols, and mount- 
ing again rode over the hill and descended at a canter 
toward them, bending close to our horses' necks. Instantly 
they took the alarm ; those on the hill descended ; those below 
gathered into a mass, and the whole got in motion, shoulder- 
ing each other along at a clumsy gallop. We followed, 
spurring our horses to full speed ; and as the herd rushed, 
crowding and trampling in terror through an opening in the 
hills, we were close at their heels, half suffocated by the 
clouds of dust. But as w^e drew near, their alarm and 
speed increased; our horses showed signs of the utmost fear, 
bounding violently aside as we approached, and refusing to 
enter among the herd. The buffalo now broke into several 
small bodies, scampering over the hills in different directions, 
and I lost sight of Shaw; neither of us knew where the 
other had gone. Old Pontiac ran like a frantic elephant 
up hill and down hill, his ponderous hoofs striking the 
prairie like sledge-hammers. He showed a curious mixture 
of eagerness and terror, straining to overtake the panic- 
stricken herd, but constantly recoiling in dismay as we drew 
near. The fugitives, indeed, offered no very attractive spec- 
tacle, with their enormous size and weight, their shaggy 
manes and the tattered remnants of their last winter's hair 
covering their backs in irregular shreds and patches, and 

^Tightened, (in anticipation of hard riding) . 



y8 The Oregon Trail 

flying off in the wind as they ran. At length I urged my 
horse close behind a bull, and after trying in vain, by blows 
and spurring, to bring him alongside, I shot a bullet into the 
buffalo from this disadvantageous position. At the report, 
Pontiac swerved so much that I was again thrown a little 
behind the game. The bullet, entering too much in the rear, 
failed to disable the bull, for a buffalo requires to be shot at 
particular points or he will certainly escape. The herd ran 
up a hill, and I followed in pursuit. As Pontiac rushed 
headlong down on the other side, I saw Shaw and Henry 
descending the hollow on the right at a leisurely gallop ; 
and in front, the buffalo were just disappearing behind the 
crest of the next hill, their short tails erect and their hoofs 
twinkling through a cloud of dust. 

At that moment I heard Shaw and Henry shouting to 
me; but the muscles of a stronger arm than mine could not 
have checked at once the furious course of Pontiac, whose 
mouth w^as as insensible as leather. Added to this, I rode 
him that morning with a common snaffle, having the day 
before, for the benefit of my other horse, unbuckled from 
my bridle the curb w^hich I ordinarily used. A stronger and 
hardier brute never trod the prairie; but the novel sight of 
the buffalo filled him with terror, and when at full speed 
he was almost incontrollable. Gaining the top of the ridge, 
I saw nothing of the buffalo ; they had all vanished amid 
the intricacies of the hills and hollows. Reloading my pistols 
in the best way I could, I galloped on until I saw them 
again scuttling along at the base of the hill, their panic 
somew^hat abated. Down w^nt old Pontiac among them, 
scattering them to the right and left, and then we had 
another long chase. About a dozen bulls were before us, 
scouring over the hills, rushing down the declivities with tre- 
mendous weight and impetuosity, and then laboring with a 
weary gallop upward. Still Pontiac, in spite of spurring 
and beating, would not close with them. One bull at length 



The Buffalo 99 

fell a little behind the rest, and by dint of much effort I 
urged my horse within six or eight yards of his side. His 
back was darkened with sweat, and he was panting heavily, 
while his tongue lolled out a foot from his jaws. Gradually 
I came up abreast of him, urging Pontiac with leg and rein 
nearer to his side, when suddenly he did what buffalo in 
such circumstances will always do : he slackened his gallop, 
and turning toward us w^ith an aspect of mingled rage and 
distress, lowered his huge shaggy head for a charge. Pontiac, 
with a snort, leaped aside in terror, nearly throwing mp 
to the ground, as I was wholly unprq^ared for such an 
evolution. I raised my pistol in a passion to strike him on 
the head, but thinking- better of it, fired the bullet after the 
bull, who had resumed his flight; then drew rein, and deter- 
mined to rejoin my companions. It was high time. The 
breath blew hard from Pontiac's nostrils, and the sweat 
rolled in big drops down his sides; I myself felt as if 
drenched in warm water. Pledging myself (and I redeemed 
the pledge) to take my revenge at a future opportunity, I 
looked round for some indications to show me where I was, 
and what course I ought to pursue. I might as well have 
looked for landmarks in the midst of the ocean. How many 
miles I had run or in what direction, I had no idea; and 
around me the prairie was rolling in steep swells and pitches, 
without a single distinctive feature to guide me. I had a 
little compass hung at my neck ; and ignorant that the Platte 
at this point diverged considerably from its easterly course, 
I thought that by keeping to the northward I should certainly 
reach it. So I turned and rode about two hours in that 
direction. The prairie changed as I advanced, softening away 
into easier undulations, but nothing like the Platte appeared, 
nor any sign of a human being; the same wild endless 
expanse lay around me still; and to all appearance I was as 
far from my object as ever. I began now to consider myself 
in danger of being lost; and therefore, reining in my horse, 



100 The Oregon Trail 

summoned the scantj^ share of woodcraft that I possessed (If 
that term be applicable upon the prairie) to extricate me. 
Looking round, it occurred to me that the buffalo might 
prove my best guides. I soon found one of the paths made 
by them in their passage to the river; It ran nearly at right 
angles to my course; but turning my horse's head In the 
direction it Indicated, his freer gait and erected ears assured 
me that I was right. 

But in the meantime my ride had been by no means a 
solitary one. The whole face of the country was dotted far 
and wide with countless hundreds of buffalo. They trooped 
along In files and columns, bulls, cows, and calves, on the 
green faces of the declivities In front. They scrambled away 
over the hills to the right and left; and far off, the pale 
blue swells In the extreme distance were dotted with Innu- 
merable specks. Sometimes I surprised shaggy old bulls 
grazing alone, or sleeping behind the ridges I ascended. 
They would leap up at my approach, stare stupidly at me 
through their tangled manes, and then gallop heavily away. 
The antelope were very numerous; and as they are always 
bold when in the neighborhood of buffalo, they would 
approach quite near to look at me, gazing intently with then- 
great round eyes, then suddenly leap aside and stretch lightly 
away over the prairie as swiftly as a racehorse. Squalid, 
ruffianlike wolves sneaked through the hollows and sandy 
ravines. Several times I passed through villages of prairie 
dogs, who sat, each at the mouth of his burrow^ holding his 
paws before him in a supplicating attitude and ^^elplng aw^ay 
most vehemently, energetically whisking his little tail with 
every squeaking cry he uttered. Prairie dogs are not fas- 
tidious in their choice of companions; various long, check- 
ered snakes were sunning themselves in the midst of the vil- 
lage, and demure little gray owls, with a large white ring 
around each eye, were perched side by side with the rightful 
inhabitants. The prairie teemed with life. Again and again 



The Buffalo lOl 

I looked toward the crowded hillsides, and was sure I saw 
horsemen ; and riding near, with a mixture of hope and 
dread, for Indians were abroad, I found them transformed 
into a group of buffalo. There was nothing in human 
shape am.id all this vast congregation of brute forms. 

When I turned down the buffalo path, the prairie seemed 
changed ; only a wolf or two glided past at intervals, like 
conscious felons, never looking to the right or left. Being 
now free from anxiety, I was at leisure to observe minutely 
the objects around me; and here, for the first time, I noticed 
insects wholly different from any of the varieties found 
farther to the eastward. Gaudy butterflies fluttered about 
my horse's head; strangely formed beetles, glittering with 
metallic luster, were crawling upon plants that I had never 
seen before ; multitudes of lizards, too, were darting like 
lightning over the sand. 

I had run to a great distance from the river. It cost me 
a long ride on the buffalo path before I saw from the ri-'ge 
of a sand-hill the pale surface of the Platte glistening in the 
midst of its desert valleys, and the faint outline of the hills 
bej'ond waving along the sky. From where I stood, not 
a tree nor a bush nor a living thing was visible throughout 
the whole extent of the sun-scorched landscape. In half an 
hour I came upon the trail, not far from the river ; and seeing 
that the party had not yet passed, I turned eastward to meet 
them, old Pontiac's long swinging trot again assuring me 
that I was right in doing so. Having been slightly ill on 
leaving camp in the morning, six or seven hours of rough 
riding had fatigued me extremely. I soon stopped, there- 
fore; flung m,y saddle on the ground, and with my head 
resting on it, and my horse's trail-rope tied loosely to mj^ 
arm, lay waiting the arrival of the party, speculating mean- 
while on the extent of the injuries Pontiac had received. At 
length the white wagon coverings rose from the verge of 
the plain. Bv a singular coincidence, almost at the same 



102 The Oregon Trail 

moment two horsemen appeared coming down from the hills. 
They w^ere Shaw and Henrj^, who had searched for me 
awhile in the morning, but well knowing the futility of the 
attempt in such a broken country, had placed themselves on 
the top of the highest hill they could find, and picketing their 
horses near them, as a signal to me, had laid down and fallen 
asleep. The stray cattle had been recovered, as the emi- 
grants told us, about noon. Before sunset, we pushed for- 
ward eight miles farther. 

"June 7, 1846. — Four men are missing; R., Sorel, and two emi- 
grants. They set out this morning after buffalo, and have not yet 
made their appearance; whether killed or lost, we cannot tell." 

I find the above in my notebook, and w^ll remember the 
council held on the occasion. Our fire was the scene of it; 
for the palpable superiority of Henry Chatillon's experience 
and skill made him the resort of the whole camp upon every 
question of difficulty. He was moulding bullets at the fire, 
when the captain drew near, with a perturbed and care- 
worn expression of countenance, faithfully reflected on the 
heavy features of Jack, who followed close behind. Then 
emigrants came straggling from their wagons toward the 
common center ; various suggestions were made to account 
for the absence of the four men, and one or two of the 
emigrants declared that when out after the cattle they had 
seen Indians dogging them, and crawling like w^olves along 
the ridges of the hills. At this the captain slowly shook 
his head with double gravity, and solemnly remarked : 

"It's a serious thing to be traveling through this cursed 
wilderness ;" an opinion in which Jack immediately expressed 
a thorough coincidence. Henry would not commit himself 
by declaring anj^ positive opinion : 

"Maybe he only follow the buffalo too far; maybe Indian 
kill him; maybe he got lost; I cannot tell!" 

With this the auditors were obliged to rest content; the 
emigrants, not in the least alarmed, though curious to know 



The Buffalo 103 

what had become of their comrades, walked back to their 
wagons, and the captain betook himself pensively to his tent. 
Shaw and I followed his example. 

"It will be a bad thing for our plans," said he as we 
entered, ''if these fellows don't get back safe. The captain 
is as helpless on the prairie as a child. We shall have to 
take him and his brother in tow; they will hang on us like 
lead." 

"The prairie is a strange place," said I. "A month ago 
I should have thought it rather a startling affair to have 
an acquaintance ride out in the morning and lose his scalp 
before night, but here it seems the most natural thing in the 
world ; not that I believe that R. has lost his yet." 

If a man is constitutionally liable to nervous apprehen- 
sions, a tour on the distant prairies w^ould prove the best 
prescription ; for though, when in the neighborhood of the 
Rocky Mountains, he may at times find himself placed in 
circumstances of some danger, I believe that few ever breathe 
that reckless atmosphere without becoming almost indifferent 
to any evil chance that may befall themselves or their 
friends. 

Shaw had a propensity for luxurious indulgence. He 
spread his blanket with the utmost accuracy on the ground ; 
picked up the sticks and stones that he thought might inter- 
fere with his comfort, adjusted his saddle to serve as a 
pillow, and composed himself for his night's rest. I had 
the first guard that evening; so, taking my rifle, I went out 
of the tento It was perfectly dark. A brisk w^ind blew 
down from the hills, and the sparks from the fire w^ere 
streaming over the prairie. One of the emigrants, named 
Morton, was my companion ; and laying our rifles on the 
grass, we sat down together by the fire. Morton was a 
Kentuckian, an athletic fellow, with a fine intelligent face, 
and in his manners and conversation he showed the essential 
characteristics of a gentleman. Our conversation turned on 



104 The Oregon Trail 

the pioneers of his gallant native State. The three hours of 
our watch dragged away at last, and we went to call up 
the relief. 

R.'s guard succeeded mine. He was absent; but the 
captain, anxious lest the camp should be left defenseless, had 
volunteered to stand In his place ; so I went to wake him up. 
There was no occasion for It, for the captain had been awake 
since nightfall. A fire was blazing outside of the tent, and 
by the light which struck through the canvas, I saw him 
and Jack lying on their backs with their eyes wide open. 
The captain responded instantly to miy call; he jumped up, 
seized the double-barreled rifle, and came out of the tent with 
an air of solemn determination, as if about to devote himself 
to the safety of the party. I went and lay down, not doubt- 
ing that for the next three hours our slumbers would be 
guarded with sufficient vigilance. 



CHAPTER VIII 

TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 

On the eighth of June, at eleven o'clock, we reached the 
South Fork of the Platte, at the usual fording place. For 
league upon league the desert uniformity of the prospect 
was almost unbroken ; the hills were dotted with little tufts 
of shriveled grass, but betwixt these the white sand was glar- 
ing in the sun ; and the channel of the river, almost on a 
level with the plain, was but one great sand-bed, about half 
a mile wide. It was covered with water, but so scantily 
that the bottom was scarcely hidden ; for, w^de as it is, the 
average depth of the Platte does not at this point exceed a 
foot and a half. Stopping near, its bank, we gathered bois 
de vache and made a meal of buffalo meat. Far off, on the 
other side, was a green meadow, where we could see the 
white tents and wagons of an emigrant camp; and just oppo- 
site to us we could discern a group of m.en and animals at 
the water's edge. Four or five horesmen soon entered the 
river, and in ten minutes had waded across and clambered 
up the loose sand-bank. They were ill-looking fellows, thin 
and swarthy, with care-worn, anxious faces and lips rigidly 
compressed. They had good cause for anxiety ; it was three 
days since they first encamped here, and on the night of their 
arrival they had lost one hundred and twenty-three of their 
best cattle, driven off by the wolves, through the neglect 
of the man on guard. This discouraging and alarming 
calamity was not the first that had overtaken them. Since 
leaving the settlem.ents, they hr.d met w^ith nothing but mis- 
fortune. Some of their party had died ; one man had been 
killed by the Pawnees; and about a week before, they had 
Icen plundered by the Dakota of all their best horses, the 

105 



^06 The Oregon Trail 

wretched animals on which our visitors were mounted being 
the only ones that were left. They had encamped, they 
told us, near sunset, by the side of the Platte, and their oxen 
wxre scattered over the meadow, while the band of horses 
were feeding a little farther off. Suddenly the ridges of the 
hills were alive with a swarm of mounted Indians, at least 
six hundred in number, who, with a tremendous yell, came 
pouring down toward the camp, rushing up within a few 
rods, to the great terror of the emigrants; but suddenly 
wheeling, they sw^ept around the band of horses, and in five 
minutes had disappeared w^ith their prey through the open- 
ings of the hills. 

As these emigrants were telling their story, we saw four 
other men approaching. They proved to be R. and his com- 
panions, who had encountered no mischance of any kind, but 
had only w^andered too far in pursuit of the game. They 
said they had seen no Indians, but only "millions of buffalo" ; 
and both R. and Sorel had meat dangling behind their 
saddles. 

The emigrants re-crossed the river, and we prepared to 
follow. First the heavy ox-wagons plunged down the bank, 
and dragged slowly over the sand-beds; sometimes the hoofs 
of the oxen were scarcely wetted by the thin sheet of water, 
and the next moment the river would be boiling against their 
sides, and eddying fiercely around the wheels. Inch by inch 
they receded from the shore, dwindling every monient, until 
at length they seemed to be floating far in the very middle 
of the river. A more critical experiment awaited us, for our 
little mule-cart was but ill-fitted for the passage of so swift 
a stream. We watched it with anxiety till it seemed to be 
a little motionless white speck in the midst of the waters; 
and it luas motionless, for it had stuck fast in a quicksand. 
The little mules were losing their footing, the wheels were 
sinking deeper and deeper, and the water began to rise 
through the bottom a-nd drench the goods within. All of us 



Taking French Leave 107 

who had remained on the hither bank galloped to the rescue; 
the men jumped into the water, adding their strength to 
that of the mules, until by much effort the cart was extri- 
cated, and conveyed in safety across. 

As we gained the other bank, a rough group of men sur- 
rounded us. Thej^ were not robust, nor large of frame, yet 
they had an aspect of hardy endurance. Finding at home 
no scope for their fierj^ energies, they had betaken themselves 
to the prairie; and in them seemed to be revived, with 
redoubled force, that fierce spirit which impelled their ances- 
tors, scarce miore lawless than themselves, from the German' 
forests, to inundate Europe and break to pieces the Roman 
empire. A fortnight afterward this unfortunate party passed 
Fort Laramie, while we were there. Not one of their miss- 
ing oxen had been recovered, though they had remained 
encamped a week in search of them ; and they had been com- 
pelled to abandon a great part of their baggage and pro- 
visions, and yoke cows and heifers to their wagons to carry 
them forward upon their journey, the most toilsome and 
hazardous part of which lay still before them. 

It is worth noticing that on the Platte one may some- 
times see the shattered wrecks of ancient claw-footed tables, 
well waxed and rubbed, or massive bureaus of carved oak. 
These, many of them no doubt the relics of ancestral pros- 
perity in the colonial time, must have encountered strange 
vicissitudes. Lnported, perhaps, originally from England; 
then, wnth the declining fortunes of their owners, borne across 
the Alleghenies to the remote wilderness" of Ohio or Ken- 
tucky; then to Illinois or Missouri; and now at last fondly 
stowed away in the family wagon for the interminable jour- 
ney to Oregon. But the stern privations of the way are 
little anticipated. The cherished relic is soon flung out to 
scorch and crack upon the hot prairie. 

We resumed our journey; but we had gone scarcely a 
mile, when R. called out from the rear: 



108 The Oregon Trail 

"We'll camp here !" 

''Why do 3^ou want to camp? Look at the sun. It is 
not three o'clock j'et." 

"We'll camp here !" 

This was the only reply vouchsafed. Deslauriers was in 
advance with his cart. Seeing the mule-wagon wheeling 
from the track, he began to turn his ow^n team in the same 
direction. 

"Go on, Deslauriers," and the little cart advanced again. 
As we rode on, we soon heard the wagon of our confederates 
creaking and jolting on behind us, and the driver, Wright, 
discharging a furious volley of oaths against his mules; no 
doubt venting upon them the wrath which he dared not direct 
against a more appropriate object. 

Something of this sort had frequently occurred. Our 
English friend was by no means partial to us, and we thought 
we discovered in his conduct a deliberate intention to thwart 
and annoy us, especially by retarding the movements of the 
party, which he knew that we, being Yankees, were anxious 
to quicken. Therefore he would insist on encamping at all 
unseasonable hours, saying that fifteen miles was a sufficient 
day's journey. Finding our wishes systematically disregarded, 
we took the direction of affairs into our own hands. Keep- 
ing always in advance, to the inexpressible indignation of R., 
we encamped at what time and place we thought proper, 
not much caring whether the rest chose to follow or not. 
They alwaj^s did so, however, pitching their tents near ours, 
with sullen and wrathful countenances. 

Traveling together on these agreeable terms did not suit 
our tastes; for some time w^e had meditated a separation. 
The connection with this party had cost us various delays 
and inconveniences ; and the glaring want of courtesy and 
good sense displayed by their virtual leader did not dispose 
us to bear these annoj^ances with much patience. We resolved 
to leave camp early in the morning, and push forward as 



Taking French Leave 109 

rapidly as possible for Fort Laramie, which we hoped to 
reach, by hard traveling, in four or five days. The captain 
soon trotted up between us, and we explained our intentions. 

"A very extraordinary proceeding, upon my word!" he 
remarked. Then he began to enlarge upon the enormity of 
the design. The most prominent impression in his mind 
evidently was that we were acting a base and treacherous 
part, in deserting his party in what he considered a very 
dangerous stage of the journey. To palliate the atrocity of 
our conduct, we ventured to suggest that w^e were only four 
in number, while his party still included sixteen men ; and 
as, moreover, we were to go forward and they were to fol- 
low, at least a full proportion of the perils he apprehended 
would fall upon us. But the austerity of the captain's fea- 
tures would not relax. "A very extraordinary proceeding, 
gentlemen !" and repeating this, he rode off to confer with 
his principal. 

By good luck, we found a meadow of fresh grass, and a 
large pool of rain-water in the midst of it. We encamped 
here at sunset. Plenty of buffalo skulls were lying around, 
bleaching in the sun ; and sprinkled thickly among the grass 
was a great variety of strange flowers. I had nothing else 
to do, and so, gathering a handful, I sat down on a buffalo 
skull to study them. Although the offspring of a wilderness, 
their texture was frail and delicate, and their colors extremely 
rich ; pure w^hite, dark blue, and a transparent crimson. One 
traveling in this country seldom has leisure to think of any- 
thing but the stern features of the scenery and its accompani- 
ments, or the practical details of each day's journey. Like 
them, he and his thoughts grow hard and rough. But now 
these flowers suddenly awakened a train of associations as 
alien to the rude scene around me as they were themselves; 
and for the moment my thoughts w^ent back to New England. 
A throng of fair and well-remembered faces rose, vividly as 
life, before me. ''There are good things," thought I, "in the 



110 The Oregon Trail 

savage life, but what can it offer to replace those powerful 
and ennobling influences that can reach unimpaired over more 
than three thousand miles of mountains, forests, and deserts?" 

Before sunrise on the next morning our tent was down ; 
we harnessed our best horses to the cart and left the camp. 
But first we shook hands with our friends the emigrants, 
who sincerely wished us a safe journe}', though some others 
of the party might easily have been consoled had we encoun- 
tered an Indian war party on the way. The captain and 
his brother were standing on the top of a hill, wrapped in 
their plaids, like spirits of the mist, keeping an anxious eye 
on the band of horses belovA'. We waved adieu to them 
as we rode off the ground. The captain replied with a 
salutation of the utmost dignity, which Jack tried to imi- 
tate; but being little practiced in the gestures of polite 
society, his effort was not a very successful one. 

In five minutes we had gained the foot of the hills, but 
here we came to a stop. Old Hendrick was in the shafts, 
and being the very incarnation of perverse and brutish 
obstinacy, he utterly refused to move. Deslauriers lashed 
and sw^dre till he was tired, but Hendrick stood like a rock, 
grumbling to himself and looking askance at his enemy, 
until he saw a favorable opportunity to take his revenge, 
when he struck out under the shaft w^ith such cool malig- 
nity of intention that Deslauriers only escaped the blow by 
a sudden skip into the air, such as no one but a Frenchman 
could achieve. Shaw and he then joined forces, and lashed 
on both sides at once. The brute stood still for a while 
till he could bear it no longer, when all at once he began 
to kick and plunge till he threatened the utter demolition 
of the cart and harness. We glanced back at the camp, 
which was in full sight. Our companions, inspired by 
emulation, were leveling their tents and driving in their 
cattle and horses. 

"Take the horse out," said I. 



Taking French Leave ill 

I took the saddle from Pontiac and put it upon Hen- 
drick; the former was harnessed to the cart in an instant. 
"Avance doncT^ cried Deslauriers. Pontiac strode up the 
hill, twitching the little cart after him as if it were a 
feather's weight; and though, as we gained the top, we saw 
the wagons of our deserted comrades just getting into mo- 
tion, we had little fear that the}^ could overtake us. Leav- 
ing the trail, we struck directly across the country, and took 
the shortest cut to reach the main stream of the Platte. A 
deep ravine suddenly intercepted us. We skirted its sides 
until we found them less abrupt, and then "plunged through 
the best w^ay w^e could. Passing behind the sandy ravines 
called "Ash Hollow,'" we stopped for a short nooning at 
the side of a pool of rain-water; but soon resumed our jour- 
ney, and some hours before sunset were descending the 
ravines and gorges opening downward upon the Platte to the 
west of Ash Hollow. Our horses v/aded to the fetlock in 
sand ; the sun scorched like fire, and the air swarmed with 
sand-flies and mosquitoes. 

At last we gained the Platte. Following it for about 
five miles, we saw, just as the sun was sinking, a great 
meadov/, dotted with hundreds of cattle, and beyond them 
an emigrant encampment. A party of about a dozen came 
out to meet us, looking upon us at first with cold and sus- 
picious faces. Seeing four men, different in appearance and 
equipment from, themselves, emerging from the hills, they 
had taken us for the van of the much-dreaded Mormons, 
whom they were very apprehensive of encountering. We 
made known our true character, and then they greeted us 
cordially. They expressed much surprise that so small a 
party should venture to traverse that region, though in fact 
such attempts are not unfrequently made by trappers and 
Indian traders. We rode with them to their camp. The 

iGetup! 

20n the left bank of the North Fork of the Platte, near the present Ogallala, 
Nebraska. 



112 The Oregon Trail 

wagons, some fifty in number, with here and there a tent 
intervening, were arranged as usual in a circle ; in the area 
within the best horses were picketed, and the whole circum- 
ference was glowing with the dusky light of the fires, dis- 
playing the forms of the women and children who were 
crowded around them. This patriarchal scene was curious 
and striking enough ; but we made our escape from the place 
with all possible dispatch, being tormented by the intrusive 
curiosity of the men who crowded around us. Yankee curi- 
osity was nothing to theirs. They demanded our names, 
where we came from, where we were going, and what was 
our business. The last query was particularly embarrass- 
ing; since traveling in that country, or indeed anywhere, 
from any other motive than gain, was an idea of which they 
took no cognizance. Yet they were fine-looking fellows, 
with an air of frankness, generosity, and even courtesy, hav- 
ing come from one of the least barbarous of the frontier 
counties. 

We passed about a mile beyond them, and encamped. 
Being too few in number to stand guard without excessive 
fatigue, we extinguished our fire, lest it should attract the 
notice of wandering Indians; and picketing our horses close 
around us, slept undisturbed till morning. For three days 
we traveled without interruption, and on the evening of the 
third encamped by the well-known spring on Scott's Bluff. 

Henry Chatillon and I rode out in the morning, and 
descending the western side of the Bluff, were crossing the 
plain beyond. Something that seemed to me a file of buffalo 
came into view, descending the hills several miles before 
us. But Henry reined in his horse, and keenly peering 
across the prairie with a better and more practiced eye, soon 
discovered its real nature. "Indians!" he said. "Old 
Smoke's lodges, I b'lieve. Come! let us go! Wah ! get up, 
now. Five Hundred Dollar!" And laying on the lash with 
good will, he galloped forward, and I rode by his side. 



Taking French Leave 113 

Not long after, a black speck became visible on the prairie, 
full tvvo miles of^. It grew larger and larger; it assum^ed 
the form of a man and horse ; and soon we could discern a 
naked Indian, careering at full gallop toward us. When 
within a furlong he w^heeled his horse in a v/ide circle, and 
made him describe various mystic figures upon the prairie; 
and Henry immediately compelled Five Hundred Dollar to 
execute sim^ilar evolutions. "It is Old Smoke's village," 
said he, interpreting these signals; "didn't I say so?" 

As the Indian approached we stopped to wait for him, 
when suddenly he vanished, sinking, as it were, into the 
earth. He had come upon one of the deep ravines that every- 
where intersect these prairies. In an instant the rough head 
of his horse stretched upward from the edge, and the rider 
and steed came scrambling out, and bounded up to us; a 
sudden jerk of the rein brought the wild panting horse to a 
full stop. Then followed the needful formality of shaking 
hands. I forget our visitor's name. He was a young fel- 
low, of no note in his nation; yet in his person and equip- 
ments he was a good specimen of a Dakota w^arrior in 
his ordinary traveling dress. Like most of his people, he 
was nearly six feet high ; lithely and gracefully, yet strongly 
proportioned ; and with a skin singularly clear and delicate. 
He wore no paint ; his head was bare ; and his long hair was 
gathered in a clump behind, to the top of which was attached 
transversely, both by way of ornament and of talisman, the 
mystic whistle, made of the wingbone of the war eagle, and 
endowed with various magic virtues. From the back of his 
head descended a line of glittering brass plates, tapering from 
the size of a doubloon to that of a half-dime, a cumbrous 
ornament, in high vogue among the Dakota, and for which 
they pay the traders a most extravagant price; his chest and 
arms were naked ; the buffalo robe, worn over them when at 
rest, had fallen about his waist and was confined there by a 
belt. This, with the gay moccasins on his feet, completed 



114 The Oregon Trail 

his attire. For arms he carried a quiver of dogskin at his 
back, and a rude but powerful bow in his hand. His horse 
had no bridle; a cord of hair, lashed around his jaw, served 
in place of one. The saddle w^as of most singular construc- 
tion ; it was made of wood covered with raw hide, and both 
pommel and cantle rose perpendicularl)^ full eighteen inches, 
so that the warrior was wedged firmly in his seat, whence 
nothing could dislodge him but the bursting of the girths. 

Advancing with our new companion, we found more of 
his people seated in a circle on the top of a hill ; while a 
rude procession came straggling down the neighboring hol- 
low, men, v/omen, and children, with horses dragging the 
lodge-poles behind them. All that morning, as we moved 
forward, tall savages were stalking silently about us. At 
noon we reached Horse Creek; and as we waded through 
the shallow w^ater, we saw a wild and striking scene. The 
main body of the Indians had arrived before us. On the 
farther bank stood a large and strong man, nearly naked, 
holding a white horse by a long cord, and eyeing us as we 
approached. This w^as the chief, w^hom Henry called "Old 
Smoke." Just behind him his youngest and favorite squaw 
sat astride of a fine mule ; it w^as covered with caparisons of 
whitened skins, garnished with blue and white beads, and 
fringed with little ornaments of metal that tinkled with 
every movement of the animal. The girl had a light clear 
complexion, enlivened by a spot of vermilion on each cheek; 
she smiled, not to say grinned, upon us, showing two gleam- 
ing rows of white teeth. In her hand she carried the tall 
lance of her unchivalrous lord, fluttering with feathers; his 
round w^hite shield hung at the side of her mule ; and his pipe 
w^as slung at her back. Her dress was a tunic of deerskin, 
made beautifully white by means of a species of clay found 
on the prairie, and ornamented with beads arrayed in figures 
more gay than tasteful, and w^ith long fringes at all the 
seams. Not far from the chief stood a 2;roup of stately 



Taking French Leave 115 

figures, thefr white buffalo robes thrown over their shoulders, 
gazing coldly upon us ; and in the rear, for several acres, 
the ground was covered with a temporary encampment ; 
men, women, and children swarmed like bees; hundreds of 
dogs, of all sizes and colors, ran restlessly about; and close 
at hand the w^ide shallow stream was alive with boj^s, girls, 
and young squaws, splashing, screaming, and laughing in 
the water. At the same time a long train of emigrant wagons 
were crossing the creek, and, dragging on in their slow, heavy 
procession, passed the encampment of the people whora they 
and their descendants, in the space of a century, are to sweep 
from the face of the earth. 

The encampment itself was merely a temporary one dur- 
ing the heat of the day. None of the lodges were erected ; 
but their heavy leather coverings, and the long poles used 
to support them, were scattered everywhere around among 
weapons, domestic utensils, and the rude harness of mules 
and horses. The squawks of each lazy w^arrior had made him 
a shelter from the sun, by stretching a few buffalo robes or 
the corner of a lodge-covering upon poles ; and here he sat 
in the shade, with a favorite young squaw, perhaps, at his 
side, glittering with all imaginable trinkets. Before him 
stood the insignia of his rank as a warrior, his white shield 
of bull-hide, his medicine bag, his bow and quiver, his lance 
and his pipe, raised aloft on a tripod of three poles. Except 
the dogs, the most active and noisy tenants of the camp were 
the old women, ugly as Macbeth's witches, w^ith their hair 
streaming loose in the wind, and nothing but the tattered 
fragment of an old buffalo robe to hide their shriveled wiry 
limbs. The day of their favoritism passed two generations 
ago ; now the heaviest labors of the camp devolved upon them ; 
they were to harness the horses, pitch the lodges, dress the 
buffalo robes, and bring in m.eat for the hunters. With the 
cracked voices of these hags, the clamor of dogs, the shout- 
ing and laughing of children and girls, and the listless tran- 



116 The Oregon Trail 

quilHty of the warriors, the whole scene had an effect too 
lively and picturesque ever to be forgotten. 

We stopped not far from the Indian camp, and hav- 
ing invited some of the chiefs and warriors to dinner, placed 
before them a sumptuous repast of biscuit and coffee. 
Squatted in a half circle on the ground, they soon disposed 
of it. As we rode forward on the afternoon journey, sev- 
eral of our late guests accompanied us. Among the rest 
was a huge bloated savage of -more than three hundred 
pounds' weight, christened Lc Cochon, in consideration of x 
his preposterous dimensions and certain corresponding traits 
of his character. ''The Hog" bestrode a little white pony 
scarce able to bear up under the enormous burden, though, 
by way of keeping up the necessary stimulus, the rider kept 
both feet in constant motion, playing alternately against his 
ribs. The old man was not a chief; he never had ambition 
enough to become one; he was not a warrior nor a hunter, 
for he was too fat and lazy: but he was the richest man in 
the whole village. Riches among the Dakotas consist in 
horses, and of these The Hog had accumulated more than 
thirty. He had already ten times as many as he wanted, 
yet still his appetite for horses was insatiable. Trotting up 
to me he shook iv.t by the hand, and gave me to understand 
that he was a very devoted friend ; and then he began a 
series of most earnest signs and gesticulations, his oily counte- 
nance radiant with smiiles, and his little eyes peeping out 
with a cunning twinkle from between the masses of flesh 
that almost obscured them. Knowing nothing at that time 
of the sign language of the Indians, I could only guess at 
his m.eaning. So I called on Henry to explain it. 

The Hog, it seems, was anxious to conclude a matri- 
monial bargain. He said he had a very pretty daughter in 
his lodge, whom he would give me if I would give him 
my horse. These flattering overtures I chose to reject; at 



Taking French Leave ' 117 

which The Hog, stiil laughing with undiminished gcwDd 
humor, gathered his robe about his shoulders and rode away. 

Where we encamped that night, an arm of the Platte 
ran between high bluffs ; it was turbid and swift as here- 
tofore, but trees were growing on its crumbling banks, and 
there was a nook of grass between the water and the hill. 
Just before entering this place, we saw the emigrants encamp- 
ing at two or three miles' distance on the right; while the 
w^hole Indian rabble were pouring down the neighboring hill 
in hope of the same sort of entertainment w^hich they had 
experienced from us. In the savage landscape before our 
camp, nothing but the rushing of the Platte broke the silence. 
Through the ragged boughs of the trees, dilapidated and half 
dead, we saw the sun setting in crimson behind the peaks 
of the Black Hills; the restless bosom of the river was suf- 
fused with red, our white tent was tinged with it, and the 
sterile bluffs, up to the rocks that crowned them, partook 
of the same fiery hue. It soon passed away; no light remained 
but that from our fire, blazing high among the dusky trees 
and bushes. We lay around it wrapped in our blankets, 
smoking and conversing until a late hour, and then with- 
drew to our tent. 

We crossed a sun-scorched plain on the next morning, 
the line of old cotton-wood trees that fringed the bank of 
the Platte forming its extreme verge. Nestled apparently 
close beneath them, we could discern in the distance some- 
thing like a building. As we came nearer, it assumed form 
and dimensions, and proved to be a rough structure of logs. 
It was a little trading fort belonging to two private traders, 
and originally intended, like all the forts of the country, to 
form a hollow square, with rooms for lodging and storage 
opening upon the area within. Only two sides of it had 
been completed ; the place was now as ill-fitted for the pur- 
poses of defense as any of those little log-houses which, upon 
our constantly shifting frontier, have been so often success- 



118 _ The Oregon Trail 

fully maintained against overwhelming odds of Indians. 
Two lodges were pitched close to the fort ; the sun beat 
scorching upon the logs ; no living thing was stirring except 
one old squaw, who thrust her round head from the open- 
ing of the nearest lodge, and three or four stout young pups, 
who were peeping with looks of eager inquiry from under 
the covering. In a moment a door opened, and a little 
sw^arthy black-eyed Frenchman came out. His dress was 
rather singular: his black curling hair was parted in the 
middle of his head, and fell below his shoulders; he wore a 
tight frock of smoked deerskin, very gayly ornamented with 
figures worked in dyed porcupine quills. His moccasins and 
leggings were also gaudily adorned in the same manner ; and 
the latter had in addition a line of long fringes reaching 
down the seams. The small frame of Richard, for by this 
name Henry made him known to us, was in the highest 
degree athletic and vigorous. There was no superfluity, and 
indeed there seldom is among the active vv^hite men of this 
country, but every limb was compact and hard ; every sinew 
had its full tone and elasticity, and the whole man wore an 
air of mingled hardihood and buoyancy. 

Richard committed our horses to a Navajo slave,^ a mean 
looking fellow taken prisoner on the Mexican frontier; and, 
relieving us of our rifles with ready politeness, led the way 
into the principal apartment of his establishment. This was 
a room ten feet square. The walls and floor were of black 
mud, and the roof of rough timber; there was a huge fire- 
place made of four flat rocks picked up on the prairie. An 
Indian bow and otter-skin quiver, several gaudy articles of 
Rocky Mountain finery, an Indian medicine bag, and a pipe 
and tobacco pouch garnished the walls, and rifles rested in a 
corner. There was no furniture except a sort of rough settle 
covered with buffalo robes, upon which lolled a tall half- 
breed, with his hair glued in masses upon each temple, and 

'Indian slavery was uncommon among either trappers or Indians. 



Taking French Leave 119 

saturated with vermilion. Two or three more "mountain 
men" sat cross-legged on the floor. Their attire was not 
unlike that of Richard himself ; but the most striking figure 
of the group was a naked Indian boy of sixteen, with a 
handsome face and light, active proportions, who sat in an 
easy posture in the corner near the door. Not one of his 
limbs moved the breadth of a hair; his eye was fixed imm.ov- 
ably, not on any person present, but, as it appeared, on the 
projecting corner of the fireplace opposite to him. 

On these prairies the custom of smoking with friends is 
seldom omitted, whether am.ong Indians or whites. The 
pipe, therefore, was taken from the wall, and its great red 
bowl crammed with the tobacco and shongsasha^ mixed in 
suitable proportions. Then it passed round the circle, each 
man inhaling a few whiffs and handing it to his neighbor. 
Having spent half an hour here, we took our leave; first 
inviting cur new friends to drink a cup of coffee with us 
at our camp, a mile farther up the river. By this time, 
as the reader may conceive, we had grown rather shabby; 
our clothes had burst into rags and tatters; and what was 
worse, we had very little means of renovation. Fort Lara- 
mie was but seven miles before us. Being totally averse to 
appearing in such plight among any society that could boast 
an approximation to the civilized, we soon stopped by the 
river to make our toilet in the best way we could. We 
hung up small looking-glasses against the trees and shaved, 
an operation neglected for six weeks; we performed our 
ablutions in the Platte, though the utility of such a pro- 
ceeding was questionable, the water looking exactly like a 
cup of chocolate, and the banks consisting of the softest and 
richest yellow mud, so that we were obliged, as a prelimi- 
nary, to build a causeway of stout branches and twigs. Hav- 
ing also put on radiant moccasins, procured from a squaw 
of Richard's establishment, and made what other improve- 

iRed willow bark, mixed with tobacco for smoking. 



120 The Oregon Trail 

ments our narrow circumstances allowed, we took our seats 
on the grass with a feeling of greatly increased respectabil- 
ity, to await the arrival of our guests. They came ; the 
banquet was concluded, and the pipe smoked. Bidding 
them adieu, we turned our horses' heads toward the fort. 

An hour elapsed. The barren hills closed across our 
front, and we could see no farther; until having surmounted 
them, a rapid stream appeared at the foot of the descent, 
running into the Platte; beyond was a green meadow, dotted 
with bushes, and in the midst of these, at the point where 
the two rivers joined, were the low clay walls of a fort. 
This was not Fort Laramie, but another post of less recent 
date, which having sunk before its successful competitor, 
w^as now deserted and ruinous. A moment after the hills, 
seeming to draw apart as we advanced, disclosed Fort Lara- 
mie itself,^ its high bastions and perpendicular walls of clay 
crowning an eminence on the left bej'ond the stream, while 
behind stretched a line of arid and desolate ridges, and 
behind these again, towering aloft seven thousand feet, arose 
the grim Black Hills. 

We tried to ford Laramie Creek at a point nearly oppo- 
site the fort, but the stream, swollen with the rains in the 
mountains, was too rapid. We passed up along its bank 
to find a better crossing place. Men gathered on the wall 
to look at us. "There's Bordeaux!" called Henry, his face 
brightening as he recognized his acquaintance ; "him there 
with the spyglass ; and there's old Vaskiss, and Tucker, and 
May; and, by George! there's Cimoneau!" This Cimoneau 
was Henry's fast friend, and the only man in the country 
w^ho could rival him in hunting. 

We soon found a ford. Henry led the way, the pony 

iport Laramie, at the junction of Laramie River and the North Platte, in 
the present State of Wyoming, was built in 1834 for the American Fur Company, 
but the next year was sold to members of the company, who conducted it as a 
private enterprise until 1849. See Inman's Great Salt Lake Trail, 98-101. 



Taking French Leave 121 

approaching the bank with a countenance of cool indiffer- 
ence, bracing his feet and sliding into the stream with the 
most unmoved composure: 

At the first plunge the horse sunk low, 
And the water broke o'er the saddle-bow.^ 

We followed; the w^ater boiled against our saddles, but 
our horses bore us easily through. The unfortunate little 
mules came near going down with the current, cart and all ; 
and we watched them with some solicitude scrambling over 
the loose round stones at the bottom, and bracing stoutly 
against the stream. All landed safely at last; we crossed 
a little plain, descended a hollow, and riding up a steep bank 
found ourselves before the gateway of Fort Laramie, under 
the Impending blockhouse erected above it to defend the 
entrance. 

iScott, The Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto I. Stanza 29. 



CHAPTER IX 

SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 

Looking back, after the expiration of a year, upon Fort 
Laramie and its inmates, they seem less like a reality than 
like some fanciful picture of the olden time, so different 
was the scene from any which this tamer side of the world 
can present. Tall Indians, enveloped in their white buf- 
falo robes, were striding across the area or reclining at full 
length on the low roofs of the buildings which inclosed it. 
Numerous squaws, gayly bedizened, sat grouped in front of 
the apartments they occupied ; their mongrel offspring, rest- 
less and vociferous, rambled in every direction through the 
fort; and the trappers, traders, and engages^ of the estab- 
lishment were busy at their labor or their amusements. 

We were met at the gate, but by no means cordially 
welcomed. Indeed, we seemed objects of some distrust and 
suspicion until Henry Chatillon explained that we were not 
traders, and we, in confirmation, handed to the bourgeois 
a letter of introduction from his principals. He took it, 
turned it upside down, and tried hard to read it ; but his 
literary attainments not being adequate to the task, he 
applied for relief to the clerk, a sleek, smiling Frenchman 
named Montalon. The letter read, Bordeaux (the bour- 
geois) seemed gradually to awaken to a sense of what was 
expected of him. Though not deficient in hospitable inten- 
tions, he was w^hoUy unaccustomed to act as master of cere- 
monies. Discarding all formalities of reception, he did not 
honor us with a single word, but walked swiftly across the 
area, while we followed in some admiration to a railing and 

'Employes. 

i:?2 



Scenes at Fort Laramie 123 

a flight of steps opposite the entrance. He signed to us that 
we had better fasten our horses to the railing; then he 
walked up the steps, tramped along a rude balcony, and 
kicking open a door displa3'ed a large room, rather more 
elaborately finished than a barn. For furniture it had a 
rough bedstead, but no bed ; two chairs, a chest of drawers, 
a tin pail to hold water, and a board to cut tobacco upon. 
A brass crucifix hung on the wall, and close at hand a 
recent scalp, with hair full a yard long, was suspended from 
a nail. I shall again have occasion to mention this dismal 
trophy, its history being connected with that of our sub- 
sequent proceedings. 

This apartment, the best in Fort Laramie, was that 
usually occupied by the legitimate bourgeois, Papin; in whose 
absence the command devolved upon Bordeaux. The latter, 
a stout, bluff little fellow, much inflated by a sense of his 
new authority, began to roar for buffalo robes. These 
being brought and spread upon the floor formed our beds; 
much better ones than we had of late been accustomed to. 
Our arrangements made, we stepped out to the balcony to 
take a more leisurely survey of the long-looked-for haven at 
which we had arrived at last. Beneath us was the square 
area surrounded by little rooms, or rather cells, which opened 
upon it. These were devoted to various purposes, but served 
chiefly for the accommodation of the men emploj'ed at the 
fort, or of the equally numerous squaws. . . . Opposite to 
us rose the blockhouse above the gateway; it was adorned 
with a figure which even now haunts my memory — a horse 
at full speed, daubed upon the boards with red paint, and 
exhibiting a degree of skill which might rival that displayed 
by the Indians in executing similar designs upon their robes 
and lodges, A busy scene was enacting in the area. The 
wagons of Vaskiss, an old trader, were about to set out for 
a remote post in the mountains, and the Canadians were 
going through their preparations with all possible bustle, 



124 The Oregon Trail 

while here and there an Indian stood looking on with imper- 
turbable gravity. 

Fort Laramie is one of the posts established by the Ameri- 
can Fur Company, who well-nigh monopolize the Indian 
trade of this whole region. Here their officials rule with an 
absolute sway; the arm of the United States has little force, 
for w^hen we were there, the extreme outposts of her troops 
were about seven hundred miles to the eastward. The little 
fort is built of bricks dried in the sun, and externally is of 
an oblong form, with bastions of clay, in the form of ordi- 
nary blockhouses, at two of the corners. The walls are 
about fifteen feet high, and surmounted b}?- a slender palisade. 
The roofs of the apartments within, which are built close 
against the walls, serve the purpose of a banquette. Within, 
the fort is divided by a partition ; on one side is the square 
area surrounded by the storerooms, offices, and apartments of 
the inmates ; on the other is the corral, a narrow place encom- 
passed by the high clay walls, where at night, or in presence 
of dangerous Indians, the horses and mules of the fort are 
crowded for safe-keeping. The main entrance has two gates, 
with an arched passage intervening. A little square window, 
quite high above the ground, opens laterally from an adjoin- 
ing chamber into this passage ; so that when the inner gate is 
closed and barred, a person without may still hold com- 
munication with those within through this narrow aperture. 
This obviates the necessity of admitting suspicious Indians, 
for purposes of trading, into the body of the fort; for when 
danger is apprehended, the inner gate is shut fast, and all 
traffic is carried on by means of the little window. This 
precaution, though highly necessary at some of the Company's 
posts, is now seldom resorted to at Fort Laramie; where, 
though men are frequently killed in its neighborhood, no 
apprehensions are now entertained of any general designs of 
hostility from the Indians. 

We did not long enjoy our new quarters undisturbed. 



Scenes at Fort Laramie 125 

The door was silently pushed open, and two eyeballs and a 
visage as black as night looked in upon us; then a red arrp 
and shoulder intruded themselves, and a tall Indian, gliding 
in, shook us by the hand, grunted his salutation, and sat down 
on the floor. Others followed, with faces of the natural hue; 
and letting fall their heavy robes from their shoulders, they 
took their seats, quite at ease, in a semi-circle before us. The 
pipe was now to be lighted and passed round from one to 
another; and this was the only entertainment that at present 
they expected from us. These visitors were fathers, brothers, 
or other relatives of the squaws in the fort, where they were 
permitted to remain, loitering about in perfect idleness. All 
those who smoked with us were men of standing and repute. 
Two or three others dropped in also; young fellows who 
neither by their years nor their exploits were entitled to rank 
with the old men and warriors, and who, abashed in the pres- 
ence of their superiors, stood aloof, never withdrawing their 
eyes from us. Their cheeks were adorned with vermilion, 
their ears with pendants of shell, and their necks with beads. 
Never yet having signalized themselves as hunters, or per- 
formed the honorable exploit of killing a man, they were 
held in slight esteem, and w^ere diffident and bashful in pro- 
portion. Certain formidable inconveniences attended this 
influx of visitors. They were bent on inspecting everything 
in the room ; our equipments and our dress alike underwent 
their scrutiny; for though the contrary has been carelessly 
asserted, few beings have more curiosity than Indians in 
regard to subjects within their ordinary range of thought. 
As to other matters, indeed, they seem utterly indifferent. 
They will not trouble themselves to inquire into what they 
cannot comprehend, but are quite contented to place their 
hands over their mouths in token of wonder, and exclaim 
that it is "great medicine." With this comprehensive solu- 
tion, an Indian never is at a loss. He never launches forth 
into speculation and conjecture; his reason moves in its 



126 The Oregon Trail 

beaten track. His soul is dormant; and no exertions of the 
missionaries, Jesuit or Puritan, of the Old World or of the 
New, have as jet availed to rouse it. 

As we were looking at sunset from the wall, upon the 
wild and desolate plains that surround the fort, we observed 
a cluster of strange objects, like scaffolds, rising in the dis- 
tance against the red western sky. They bqre aloft some 
singular looking burdens, and at their foot glimmered some- 
thing white like bones. This was tne place of sepulture of 
some Dakota chiefs, whose remains tneir people are fond of 
placing in the vicinity of the fort, in the hope that they may 
thus be protected from violation at the hands of their ene- 
mies. Yet it has happened more than once, and quite 
recently, that war parties of the Crow Indians, ranging 
through the country, have thrown the bodies from the scaf- 
folds and broken them to pieces amid the yells of the Dakota, 
who remained pent up in the fort, too few to defend the 
honored relics from insult. The white objects upon the 
ground were buffalo skulls, arranged in the mystic circle 
commonly seen at Indian places of sepulture upon the 
prairie. 

We soon discovered, in the twilight, a band of fifty or 
sixty horses approaching the fort. These were the animals 
belonging to the establishmicnt, who having been sent out 
to feed, under the care of armed guards, in the meadows 
below, were now being driven into the corral for the night. 
A little gate opened into this inclosure ; by the side of it 
stood one of the guards, an old Canadian, wnth gray bushy 
eyebrow^s, and a d^goon pistol stuck into his belt; while 
his comrade, mounted on horseback, his rifle laid across the 
saddle in front of him, and his long hair blowing before 
his swarthy face, rode at the rear of the disorderly troop, 
urging them up the ascent. In a moment the narrow corral 
was thronged with the half-wild horses, kicking, biting, and 
crowding restlessly together. 



Scenes at Fort Laramie 127 

The discordant jingling of a bell, rung by a Canadian, 
in the area, summoned us to supper. This sumptuous repast 
was served on a rough table in one of the lower apartments 
of the fort, and consisted of cakes of bread and dried buffalo 
meat — an excellent thing for strengthening the teeth. At 
this meal w^ere seated the bourgeois and superior dignitaries 
of the establishment, among whom Henry Chatillon was 
worthily included. No sooner was it finished, than the table 
was spread a second time (the luxury of bread being now, 
however, omitted), for the benefit of certain hunters and 
trappers of an inferior standing; while the ordinary Cana- 
dian engages Vvcre regaled on dried meat in one of theii 
lodging rooms. By way of illustrating the domestic econ- 
omy of Fort Laramie, it may not be amiss to introduce in 
this place a story current among the men when we were 
there. 

There was an old man named Pierre, whose duty it was 
to bring the meat from the storeroom for the men. Old 
Pierre, in the kindness of his heart, used to select the fattest 
and the best pieces for his companions. This did not long 
escape the keen-eyed bourgeois, who was greatly disturbed 
at such improvidence, and cast about for some means to 
stop it. At last he hit on a plan that exactly suited him. 
At the side of the meat-room, and separated from it by a clay 
partition, was another apartment used for the storage of 
furs. It had no other communication with the fort, except 
through a square hole in the partition ; and of course it was 
perfectly dark. One evening the bourgeois, watching for a 
moment when no one observed him, dodged into the meat- 
room, clambered through the hole, and ensconced himself 
among the furs and buffalo robes. Soon after, old Pierre 
came In with his lantern ; and, muttering to himself, began 
to pull over the bales of meat and select the best pieces, as 
usual. But suddenly a hollow and sepulchral voice pro- 
ceeded from the Inner apartment: "Pierre! Pierre! Let 



i28 The Oregon Trail 

that fat meat alone! Take nothing but lean!" Pierre 
dropped his lantern and bolted out into the fort, screaming, 
in an agony of terror, that the devil was in the storeroom ; 
but tripping on the threshold, he pitched over upon the gravel 
and lay senseless, stunned by the fall. The Canadians ran 
out to the rescue. Some lifted the unlucky Pierre; and 
others, making an extempore crucifix out of two sticks, were 
proceeding to attack the devil In his stronghold, when the 
bourgeois, with a crest-fallen countenance, appeared at the 
door. To add to the bourgeoises mortification, he was 
obliged to explain the whole strategem to Pierre, In order to 
bring the latter to his senses. 

We w^re sitting, on the following morning, in the pas- 
sage-way between the gates, conversing with the traders 
Vaskiss and May. These two men, together with our sleek 
friend, the clerk Montalon, were, I believe, the only persons 
then in the fort who could read and write. May was tell- 
ing a curious story about the traveler Catlin,^ when an ugly, 
diminutive Indian, wretchedly mounted, came up at a gal- 
lop and rode past us into the fort. On being questioned, 
he said that Smoke's village was close at hand. Accordingly 
only a few minutes elapsed before the hills be5'ond the river 
were covered with a disorderly swarm of savages, on horse- 
back and on foot. May finished his story; and by that time 
the whole array had descended to Laramie Creek, and com- 
menced crossing it in a mass. I w^alked down to the bank. 
The stream is wide, and was then between three and four 
feet deep, with a very swift current. For several rods the 
water w^as alive with dogs, horses, and Indians. The long 
poles used in erecting the lodges are carried by the horses, 
being fastened by the heavier end, two or three on each side, 
to a rude sort of pack saddle, w^hile the other end drags on 
the ground. About a foot behind the horse, a kind of large 

^George Catlin, b. 1796, d. 1872, author of several works descriptive of In- 
dian manners and customs, spent eight years among the Indians, visiting forty- 
eight tribes. 



Scenes at Fort Laramie 129 

basket or pannier Is suspended between the poles, and firmly 
lashed in its place. On the back of the horse are piled 
various articles of luggage ; the basket also is well filled with 
domestic utensils, or, quite as often, with a litter of puppies, 
a brood of small children, or a superannuated old man. 
Numbers of these curious vehicles, called, in the bastard lan- 
guage of the country, travaux^ were now splashing together 
through the stream. Among them swam countless dogs, 
often burdened with miniature travaux; and dashing for- 
ward on horseback through the throng came the superbly 
formed warriors, the slender figure of some lynx-eyed boy 
clinging fast behind them. The women sat perched on the 
pack saddles, adding not a little to the load of the already 
overburdened horses. The confusion was prodigious. The 
dogs yelled and howded in chorus ; the puppies in the 
travaux set up a dismal whine as the water invaded their, 
comfortable retreat; the little black-eyed children, from one 
year of age upward, clung fast with both hands to the edge 
of their basket, and looked over in alarm at the water rush- 
ing so near them, sputtering and making wTy mouths as 
it splashed against their faces. Some of the dogs, encum- 
bered by their load, v/ere carried down by the current, 
yelping piteously; and the old squaws would rush Into the 
water, seize their favorites by the neck, and drag them out. 
As each horse gained the bank, he scrambled up as he 
could. Stray horses and colts came among the rest, often 
breaking away at full speed through the crowd, followed by 
the old hags, screaming after their fashion on all occasions 
of excitement. Buxom young squaws, blooming in all the 
charms of vermilion, stood here and there on the bank, 
holding aloft their master's lance as a signal to collect the 
scattered portions of his household. In a few moments 
the crowd melted away, each family, with its horses and 
equipage, filing of¥ to the plain at the rear of the fort; and 

^A corruption of iraineaux. 



130 The Oregon Trail 

here, in the space of half an hour, arose sixty or seventy 
of their tapering lodges. Their horses were feeding by 
hundreds over the surrounding prairie, and their dogs were 
roaming everywhere. The fort was full of men, and the 
children were whooping and j^elling incessantly under the 
walls. 

These newcomers were scarcely arrived, when Bordeaux 
was running across the fort, shouting to his squaw to bring 
him his spy-glass. The obedient Marie, the very model of 
a squaw, produced the instrument, and Bordeaux hurried 
with it up to the wall. Pointing it to the eastward, he 
exclaimed, with an oath, that the families were coming. 
But a few moments elapsed before the heavy caravan of 
the emigrant wagons could be seen, steadily advancing from 
the hills. They gained the river, and without turning or 
pausing plunged in ; they passed through, and slowly as- 
cending the opposite bank, kept directly on their way past 
the fort and the Indian village, until, gaining a spot a 
quarter of a mile distant, they wheeled into a circle. For 
some time our tranquillity was undisturbed. The emigrants 
were preparing their encampment ; but no sooner was this 
accomplished than Fort Laramie was fairly taken by storm. 
A crowd of broad-brimmed hats, thin visages, and staring 
eyes appeared suddenly at the gate. Tall awkward men in 
brown homespun, women with cadaverous faces and long lank 
figures, came thronging in together, and, as if inspired by 
the very demon of curiosity, ransacked every nook and corner 
of the fort. Dismayed at this invasion, we withdrew in all 
speed to our chamber, vainly hoping that it might prove an 
inviolable sanctuary. The emigrants prosecuted their in- 
vestigations with untiring vigor. They penetrated the rooms, 
or rather dens, inhabited by the astonished squaws. They 
explored the apartments of the men, and even that of Marie 
and the bourgeois. At last a numerous deputation appeared 
at our door, but were immediately expelled. Being totally 



Scenes at Fort Laramie I3i 

devoid of any sense of delicacy or propriety, they seemed 
resolved to search every mystery to the bottom. 

Having at length satisfied their curiosity, they next pro- 
ceeded to business. The men occupied themselves in pro- 
curing supplies for their onward journey, either buying them 
with money or giving in exchange superfluous articles of 
their own. 

The emigrants felt a violent prejudice against the French 
Indians, as they called the trappers and traders. They 
thought, and with some justice, that these men bore them 
no good will. Manj^ of them were firmly persuaded that 
the French were instigating the Indians to attack and cut 
them off. On visiting the encampment, we were at once 
struck with the extraordinary perplexity and 'indecision that 
prevailed among the emigrants. They seemed like men 
totally out of their elements bewildered and amazed, like 
a troop of school-boys lost in the woods. It was impossible 
to be long among them without being conscious of the high * 
and bold spirit with which most of them were animated. But 
the forest is the home of the backwoodsman. On the remote 
prairie he is totally at a loss. He differs as much from the 
genuine "mountain man," the wild prairie hunter, as a Cana- 
dian voyageur, paddling his canoe on the rapids of the 
Ottawa,^ differs from an American sailor among the storms 
of Cape Horn. Still, my companion and I were somewhat 
at a loss to account for this perturbed state of mind. It 
could not be cowardice; these men were of the same stock 
with the volunteers of Monterey and Buena Vista. Yet, for 
the most part, they were the rudest and most ignorant of 
the frontier population ; they knew absolutely nothing of the 
country and its inhabitants; they had already experienced 
much misfortune, and apprehended more; they had seen 

iPor the early French traders and fur-hunters, the Ottwa River, flowing into 
the St. Lawrence above Montreal, formed the most direct water route to Lake 
Huron and Lake Superior. 



132 • The Oregon Trail 

nothing of mankind, and had never put their own resources 
to the test. 

A full proportion of suspicion fell upon us. Being stran- 
gers, we were looked upon as enemies. Having occasion for a 
supply of lead and a few other necessary articles, we used 
to go over to tlie emigrant camps to obtain them. After 
some hesitation, some dubious glances, and fumbling of the 
hands in the pockets, the terms would be agreed upon, the 
price tendered, and the emigrant would go off to bring the 
article in question. After waiting until our patience gave 
out, we would go in search of him, and find him seated on 
the tongue of his wagon. 

"Well, stranger," he would observe, as he saw us 
approach, "I reckon I won't trade!" 

Some friend of his had followed him from the scene of 
the bargain, and suggested in his ear that clearly we meant 
to cheat him, and he had better have nothing to do with us. 

This timorous mood of the emigrants was doubly unfor- 
tunate, as it exposed them to real danger. Assume, in the 
presence of Indians, a bold bearing, self-confident yet vigi- 
lant, and you will find them tolerably safe neighbors. But 
}"our safety depends on the respect and fear you are able 
to inspire. If you betray timidity or indecision, you 
convert them from that moment into insidious and dan- 
gerous enemies. The Dakota saw clearly enough the per- 
turbation of the emigrants, and instantly availed themselves 
of it. They became extremely insolent and exacting in their 
demands. It has become an established custom with them to 
go to the camp of every party, as it arrives in succession at 
the fort, and demand a feast. Smoke's village had come 
with this express design, having made several days' journey 
with no other object than that of enjoying a cup of coffee 
and two or three biscuits. So the "feast" was demanded, 
and the emigrants dared not refuse it. 

One evening, about sunset, the village was deserted. We 



Scenes at Fort Laramie 133 

met old men, warriors, squaws, and children in gay attire, 
trooping off to the encampment with faces of anticipation ; 
and, arriving here, they seated themselves in a semicircle, 
Smoke occupied the center, with his warriors on either hand ; 
the 3^oung men and boys next succeeded, and the squaws and 
children formed the horns of the crescent. The biscuit and 
coffee were most promptly dispatched, the emigrants staring 
open-mouthed at their savage guests. With each new emi- 
grant party that arrived at Fort Laramie this scene was 
renewed ; and every day the Indians grew more rapacious 
and presumptuous. One evening they broke to pieces, out 
of mere wantonness, the cups from w^iich they had been 
feasted ; and this so exasperated the emigrants that many of 
them seized their rifles and could scarcely be restrained from 
firing on the insolent mob of Indians. Before we left the 
country this dangerous spirit on the part of the Dakota had 
mounted to a yet higher pitch. They began openly to 
threaten the emigrants with destruction, and actually fired 
upon one or two parties of whites. A military force and 
military law are urgently called for in that perilous region ; 
and unless troops are speedily stationed at Fort Laramie, or 
elsewhere in the neighborhood, both the emigrants and other 
travelers w^ll be exposed to most imminent risks. 

The Ogallalla, the Brules, and the other western bands 
of the Dakota, are thorough savages, unchanged by any con- 
tact with civilization. Not one of them can speak a Euro- 
pean tongue, or has ever visited an American settlement. 
Until within a j^ear or two, when the emigrants began to 
pass through their country on the way to Oregon, they had 
seen no whites except the handful emploj^ed about the Fur 
Company's posts. They esteemed them a wise people, inferior 
only to themselves, living in leather lodges like their own, 
and subsisting on buffalo. But when the sw^arm of Mene- 
aska^ with their oxen and wagons, began to invade them, 

^White men. 



i34 The Oregon Trail , 

their astonishment was unbounded. They could scarcely 
believe that the earth contained such a multitude of white 
men. Their wonder is now giving way to indignation, and 
the result, unless vigilantly guarded against, may be lament- 
able in the extreme. 

But to glance at the interior of a lodge. Shaw^ and I 
used often to visit them. Indeed, we spent most of our 
evenings in the Indian village, Shaw's assumption of the 
medical character giving us a fair pretext. As a sample of 
the rest I will describe one of these visits. The sun had 
just set, and the horses w^ere driven into the corral. The 
Prairie Cock, a noted beau, came in at the gate with a bevy 
of 3'oung girls, w^ith whom he began a dance in the area, 
leading them round and round in a circle, while he jerked 
up from his chest a succession of monotonous sounds, to 
which they kept time in a rueful chant. Outside the gate 
boys and young men were idly frolicking ; and close by, look- 
ing grimly upon them, stood a warrior in his robe, with 
his face painted jet-black, in token that he had lately taken 
a Pawnee scalp. Passing these, the tall dark lodges rose 
between us and the red western sky. We repaired at once 
to the lodge of Old Smoke himself. It was by no means 
better than the others; indeed, it w^as rather shabby; for in 
this democratic community the chief never assumes superior 
state. Smoke sat cross-legged on a buffalo robe, and his 
grunt of salutation as we entered was unusually cordial, out 
of respect no doubt to Shaw's medical character. Seated 
around the lodge were several squaws and an abundance of 
children. The complaint of Shawn's patients was, for the 
most part, a severe inflammation of the ej^s, occasioned by 
exposure to the sun, a species of disorder which he treated 
with some success. He had brought with him a homeo- 
pathic medicine chest, and was, I presume, the first who 
introduced that harmless system of treatment among the 
Ogallala. No sooner had a robe been spread at the head 



Scenes at Fort Laramie 135 

of the lodge for our accommodation, and we had seated our- 
selves upon it, than a patient made her appearance : the 
chief's daughter herself, who, to do her justice, was the 
best-looking girl in the village. Being on excellent terms 
with the physician, she placed herself readily under his hands, 
and submitted with a good grace to his applications, laugh- 
ing in his face during the whole process; for a squaw hardly 
knows how to smile. This case dispatched, another of a 
different kind succeeded. A hideous, emaciated old woman 
sat in the darkest corner of the lodge, rocking to and fro 
with pain and hiding her eyes from the light by pressing 
the palms of both hands against her face. At Smoke's com- 
mand, she came forward, very unwillingly, and exhibited a 
pair of eyes that had nearly disappeared from excess of 
inflammation. No sooner had the doctor fastened his grip 
upon her than she sat up a dismal moaning, and writhed so 
in his grasp that he lost all patience; but being resolved to 
carry his point, he succeeded at last in applying his favorite 
remedies. 

"It is strange," he said, when the operation w^as finished, 
''that I forgot to bring any Spanish flies^ with me; we must 
have something here to answer for a counter irritant!" 

So, in the absence of better, he seized upon a red-hot 
brand from the fire and clapped it against the temple of 
the old squaw, who set up an unearthl)^ howd, at w^hich the 
rest of the family broke out into a laugh. 

X)uring these medical operations Smoke's eldest squaw 
entered the lodge, with a sort of stone mallet in her hand. 
I had observed some time before a litter of well-grown black 
puppies, comfortably nestled among some buffalo robes at 
one side; but this newxomer speedily disturbed their enjoy- . 
ment; for seizing one of them by the hind paw% she dragged 
him out, and carrying him to the entrance of the lodge, 
hammered him on the head till she killed him. Being quite 

^An insect formerly used to produce blisters. 



136 The Oregon Trail 

consciou- to what this preparation tended, I looked through 
a hole in the back of the lodge to see the next steps of the 
process. The squaw, holding the puppy by the legs, was 
swinging him to and fro through the blaze of a fire, until 
the hair was singed off. This done, she unsheathed her 
knife and cut him into small pieces, which she dropped into 
a kettle to boil. In a few moments a large wooden dish 
was set before us, filled with this delicate preparation. We 
felt conscious of the honor. A dog-feast is the greatest com- 
pliment a Dakota can offer to his guest; and knowing that 
to refuse eating would be an affront, we attacked the little 
dog and devoured him before the eyes of his unconscious 
parent. Smoke in the meantime was preparing his great 
pipe. It was lighted when we had finished our repast, and 
we passed it from one to another till the bowl was empty. 
This done, we took our leave without further ceremony, 
knocked at the gate of the fort, and after making ourselves 
known were admitted. 

One morning, about a week after reaching Fort Lara- 
mie, we were holding our customary Indian levee, when a 
bustle in the area below announced a new arrival ; and look- 
ing down from our balcony, I saw a familiar red beard and 
mustache in the gateway. They belonged to the captain, 
who with his party had just crossed the stream. We met 
him on the stairs as he came up, and congratulated him on 
the safe arrival of himself and his devoted companions. 
But he remembered our treachery, and was grave and Sig- 
nified accordingly; a tendency which increased as he observed 
on our part a disposition to laugh at him. After remaining 
an hour or two at the fort he rode away with his friends, 
, and we have heard nothing of him since. As for R., he 
kept carefully aloof. It was but too evident that we had 
the unhappiness to have forfeited the kind regards of our 
London fellow-traveler. 



Scenes at Fort Laramie 137 

NOTE. 

Somewhat more than a year from this time Shaw happened to be 
in iNiew York, and coming one morning down the steps of the Astor 
House, encountered a small newsboy with a bundle of penny papers 
under his arm, who screamed in his ear, "Another great battle in 
Mexico!" Shaw bought a paper, and having perused the glorious 
intelligence, was looking over the remaining columns, when the fol- 
lowing paragraph aitracted his notice : 

"English Traveling Sportsmen. — Among the notable arrivals in 
town are two English gentlemen, William and John C. Esqrs., at the 
Clinton Hotel, on their return home after an extended Buifalo hunting 
tour in Oregon and the wild West. Their party crossed the continent 
in March, 1846, since when our travelers have seen the wonders of 
our great West, the Sandwich Islands, and the no less agreeable coast 
of Western Mexico, California, and Feru. With the real zeal of 
sportsmen they have pursued adventure whenever it has offered, and 
returned with not only a correct knowledge of the West, but with 
many a trophy that shows they have found the grand sport the}'" 
sought. The account of Oregon given by those observing travelers Is 
most glowing, and though upon a pleasure trip, the advantages to be 
realized by commercial men have not been overlooked, and they pro- 
phesy for that "Western state" a prosperity not exceeded at the East. 
The fisheries are spoken of as the best in the country, and' only 
equaled by the rare facilities for agriculture. A trip like this now 
closed is a rare undertaking, but as interesting as rare to those who 
are capable of a full appreciation of all the wonders that met them in 
the magnihcent region they have traversed." 

In some admiration at the heroic light In which Jack and the 
captain were here set forth, Shaw pocketed the newspaper, and pro- 
ceeded to make inquiry after his old fellow-travelers. Jack was out 
of town, but the captain was quietly established at his hotel. Except 
that the red mustache was shorn away, he was in all respects the 
same man whom we had left upon the South Fork of the Platte. 
Every recollection of former differences had vanished from his mind, 
and he greeted his visitor miost cordially. "Where is R?" asked 
Shaw. "Gone to the devil," hastily replied the captain ; "that Is, Jack 
and I parted from him at Oregon City, and haven't seen him since." 
He next proceeded to give an account of his journeyings after leaving 
us at Fort Laramie. No sooner. It seemed, had he done so, than he 
and Jack began to slaughter the buffalo with unrelenting fury, but 
when they reached the other side of the South Pass their rifles were 
laid by as useless, since there were neither Indians nor game to exer- 
cise them upon. From this point the journey, as the captain expressed 
it, was a great bore. When they reached the mouth of the Columbia, 
he and Jack sailed for the Sandwich Islands, whence they proceeded 
to Panama, across the Isthmus, and came by sea to New Orleans. 

Shaw and our friend spent the eyening together, and when they 
finally separated at two o'clock In the morning, the captain's ruddy 
face was ruddier than ever. 



CHAPTER X 

THE WAR PARTIES 

The summer of 1846 was a season of much warlike 
excitement among all the western bands of the Dakota. In 
1845 the}^ encountered great reverses. Many war parties 
had been sent out; some of them had been totally cut off, 
and others had returned broken and disheartened, so that 
the whole nation was in mourning. Among the rest, ten 
warriors had gone to the Snake country", led by the son of a 
prominent Ogallala chief, called The Whirlwind. In pass- 
ing over Laramie Plains^ they encountered a superior num- 
ber of their enemies, were surrounded, and killed to a man. 
Having performed this exploit the Snakes became alarmed, 
dreading the resentmiCnt of the Dakota, and they hastened 
therefore to signify their wish for peace by sending the scalp 
of the slain partisan, together with a small parcel of tobacco 
attached, to his tribesmen and relations. They had employed 
old Vaskiss, the trader, as their messenger, and the scalp was 
the same that hung in our room at the fort. But The Whirl- 
wind proved inexorable. Though his character hardly cor- 
responds w^ith his name, he is nevertheless an Indian, and 
hates the Snakes with his whole soul. Long before the scalp 
arrived he had made his preparations for revenge. He sent 
messengers with presents and tobacco to all the Dakota 
within three hundred miles, proposing a grand combination 
to chastise the Snakes, and naming a place and time of ren- 
dezvous. The plan was readily adopted, and at this moment 
many villages, probably embracing in the whole five or six 
thousand souls, were slowly creeping over the prairies and 

^Laramie Plains have an area of about 1,200 square miles. 

138 



The War Parties 139 

tending toward the common center at La Bonte's camp, 
on the Platte. Here their warlike rites were to be cele- 
brated with more than ordinary solemnity, and a thousand 
warriors, as it was said, were to set out for the enemy's 
country. The characteristic result of this preparation will 
appear in the sequel. 

I w^as greatly rejoiced to hear of it. I had come into 
the country almost exclusively with a view of observing the 
Indian character. Having from childhood felt a curiosity 
on this subject, and having failed completely to gratify it 
by reading, I resolved to have recourse to observation. I 
wished to satisfy myself with regard to the position of the 
Indians among the races of men ; the vices and the virtues 
that have sprung from their innate character and from their 
modes of life, their government, their superstitions, and their 
domestic situation. To accomplish my purpose it was neces- 
sary to live in the midst of them, and become, as it were, one 
of them. I proposed to join a village, and make mj'self an 
inmate of one of their lodges; and henceforward this nar- 
rative, so far as I am concerned, will be chiefly a record of 
the progress of this design, apparently so easy of accomplish- 
ment, and the unexpected impediments that opposed it. 

We resolved on no account to miss the rendezvous at La 
Bonte's camp. Our plan was to leave Deslauriers at the 
fort, in charge of our equipage and the better part of our 
horses, while we took with us nothing but our weapons and 
the worst animals we had. In all probability jealousies and 
quarrels would arise among so many hordes of fierce, impul- 
sive savages, congregated together under no common 
head, and many of them strangers from remote prai- 
ries and mountains. We were bound in common prudence 
to be cautious how we excited any feeling of cupidity. This 
was our plan, but unhappily we were not destined to visit 
La Bonte's camp in this manner; for one morning a young 
Indian came to the fort and brought us evil tidings. The 



3.40 The Oregon Trail 

newcomer was a dandy of the first water. His ugly face 
was painted with vermilion; on his head fluttered the tail 
of a prairie cock (a large species of pheasant, not found, as 
I have heard, eastward of the Rocky Mountains) ; in his 
ears were hung pendants of shell, and a flaming red blanket 
was wrapped around him. He carried a dragoon sword in 
his hand, solely for display, since the knife, the arrow, and 
the rifle are the arbiters of every prairie fight ; but as no one 
in this country goes abroad unarmed, the dandy carried a 
bow and arrows in an otter-skin quiver at his back. In this 
guise, and bestriding his yellow horse with an air of extreme 
dignity. The Horse, for that was his name, rode in at the 
gate, turning neither to the right nor the left, but casting 
glances askance at the groups of squaws who, with their 
mongrel progeny, were sitting in the sun before their doors. 
The evil tidings brought by The Horse were of the follow- 
ing import : The squaw of Henry Chatillon . . . was dan- 
gerously ill. She and her children were in the village of 
The Whirlwind, at the distance of a few days' journey. 
Henry was anxious to see the woman before she died, and 
provide for the safety and support of his children, of whom 
he was extremely fond. To have refused him this would have 
been gross inhumanity. We abandoned our plan of joining 
Smoke's village and of proceeding with it to the rendezvous, 
and determined to meet The Whirlwind and go in his 
company. 

I had been slightly ill for several weeks, but on the third 
night after reaching Fort Laramie a violent pain awoke me, 
and I found myself attacked by the same disorder^ that 
occasioned such heavy losses to the army on the Rio Grande. 
In a day and a half I was reduced to extreme weakness, so 
that I could not walk without pain and effort. Having 
within that time taken six grains of opium without the least 
beneficial effect, and having no medical adviser nor any 

^Dysentery, a disease tcrmerly common in camps. 



The War Parties 141 

choice of diet, I resolved to throw myself upon Providence 
for recovery, using, w^ithout regard to the disorder, any 
portion of strength that might remain to me. So on the 
twentieth of June we set out from Fort Laramie to meet 
The Whirlwind's village. Though aided by the high-bowed 
"mountain saddle," I could scarcely keep my seat on horse- 
back. Before we left the fort we hired another man, a 
long-haired Canadian named Raymond, with a face like an 
owl's, contrasting oddly enough with Deslauriers's mercurial 
countenance. This was not the only re-enforcement to our 
party. A vagrant Indian trader, named Reynal, joined us, 
together with his squaw Margot and her two nephews, our 
dandy friend, The Horse, and his younger brother. The Hail 
Storm. Thus accompanied, we betook ourselves to the 
prairie, leaving the beaten trail and passing over the desolate 
hills that flank the bottoms of Laramie Creek. In all, 
Indians and whites, we counted eight men and one woman. 
Reynal, the trader, the image of sleek and selfish com- 
placency, carried The Horse's dragoon sword in his hand, 
delighting apparently in this useless parade ; for, from spend- 
ing half his life among Indians, he had caught not only their 
habits but their ideas. Margot, a female animal of more 
than two hundred pounds' weight, was couched in the basket 
of a travail^ such as I have before described; besides her 
ponderous bulk, various domestic utensils were attached to 
the vehicle, and she was leading by a trail-rope a packhorse, 
who carried the covering of Reynal's lodge. Deslauriers 
walked briskly by the side of the cart, and Raymond came 
behind, swearing at the spare horses which it was his busi- 
ness to drive. The restless young Indians, their quivers at 
their backs and their bows in their hands, galloped over the 
hills, often starting a wolf or an antelope from the thick 
growth of wild-sage bushes. Shaw and I were in keeping; 
with the rest of the rude cavalcade, having in the absence 

^Singular of travaux. Cf. page 129, note 1- 



142 The Oregon Trail 

of other clothing adopted the buckskin attire of the trappers. 
Henry Chatillon rode in advance of the whole. Thus we 
passed hill after hill and hollow after hollow, a country arid, 
broken, and so parched by the sun that none of the plants 
familiar to our more favored soil would flourish upon it, 
though there were multitudes of strange medicinal herbs, 
more especially the absanth, which covered every declivity; 
and cacti were hanging like reptiles at the edges of every 
ravine. At length we ascended a high hill, our horses 
treading upon pebbles of flint, agate, and rough jasper, until, 
gaining the top, we looked down on the wild bottoms of 
Laramie Creek, which far below us wound like a writhing 
snake from side to side of the narrow interval, amid a growth 
of shattered cotton-wood and ash trees. Lines of tall cliffs, 
white as chalk, shut in this green strip of woods and meadow 
land, into which we descended and encamped for the night. 
In the morning we passed a wide grassy plain by the river; 
there was a grove in front, and beneath its shadows the ruins 
of an old trading-fort of logs. The grove bloomed with 
myriads of wild roses, with their sweet perfume fraught with 
recollections of home. As we emerged from the trees, a 
rattlesnake, as large as a man's arm and more than four feet 
long, lay coiled on a rock, fiercely rattling and hissing at us ; 
a gray hare, double the size of those of New England, leaped 
up from the tall ferns ; curlew were screaming over our heads, 
and a whole host of little prairie dogs sat yelping at us at 
the mouths of their burrows on the dry plain beyond. Sud- 
denly an antelope leaped up from the wild-sage bushes, gazed 
eagerly at us, and then, erecting his white tail, stretched 
away like a greyhound. The two Indian boys found a white 
wolf, as large as a calf, in a hollow, and giving a sharp 
yell, they galloped after him; but the wolf leaped into the 
stream and sw^am across. Then came the crack of a rifle, 
the bullet whistling harmlessly over his head as he scrambled 
up the steep declivity, rattling down stones and earth into 



The War Parties 143 

the water below. Advancing a little, we beheld on the 
farther bank of the stream a spectacle not common even in 
that region; for, emerging from among the trees, a herd of 
some two hundred elk came out upon the meadow, their 
antlers clattering as they walked forward in a dense throng. 
Seeing us, they broke into a run, rushing across the opening 
and disappearing among the trees and scattered groves. On 
our left was a barren prairie stretching to the horizon; on 
our right, a deep gulf with Laramie Creek at the bottom. 
We found ourselves at length at the edge of a steep descent ; 
a narrow valley, with long rank grass and scattered trees, 
stretching before us for a mile or more along the course of 
the stream. Reaching the farther end, we stopped and 
encamped. An old, huge cotton-wood tree spread its branches 
horizontally over our tent. Laramie Creek, circling before 
our camp, half inclosed us; it swept along the bottom of a 
line of tall white cliffs that looked down on us from the 
farther bank. There were dense copses on our right; the 
cliffs, too, were half hidden by shrubbery, though behind us 
a few Cottonwood trees, dotting the green prairie, alone im- 
peded the view, and friend or enemy could be discerned 
in that direction at a mile's distance. Here we resolved to 
remain and await the arrival of The Whirlwind, who 
would certainly pass this way in his progress toward La 
Bonte's camp. To go in search of him was not expedient, 
both on account of the broken and impracticable nature of 
the country and the uncertainty of his position and move- 
ments; besides, our horses were almost worn out, and I was 
in no condition to travel. We had good grass, good water, 
tolerable fish from the stream, and plenty of smaller game 
such as antelope and deer, though no buffalo. There w^as 
one little drawback to our satisfaction — a certain extensive 
tract - of bushes and dried grass, just behind us, which it 
was by no means advisable to enter, since it sheltered a 
numerous brood of rattlesnakes. Henry Chatillon again 



144 The Oregon Trail 

dispatched The Horse to the village, with a message to his 
squaw that she and her relatives should leave the rest and 
push on as rapidly as possible to our camp. 

Our daily routine soon became as regular as that of a 
well-ordered household. The weather-beaten old tree was 
in the center; our rifles generally rested against its vast 
trunk, and our saddles were flung on the ground around it ; 
its distorted roots were so twisted as to form one or two 
convenient arm-chairs, where we could sit in the shade and 
read or smoke ; but meal-times became, on the whole, the most 
interesting hours of the day, and a bountiful provision was 
made for them. An antelope or a deer usually swung from 
a stout bough, and haunches were suspended against the 
trunk. That camp is daguerreotyped on my memory; the 
old tree, the white tent, with Shaw sleeping in the shadow 
of it, and Reynal's miserable lodge close by the bank of 
the stream. It was a wretched oven-shaped structure, made 
of begrimed and tattered buffalo hides stretched over a frame 
of poles; one side was open, and at the side of the opening 
hung the powder horn and bullet pouch of the owner, together 
with his long red pipe, and a rich quiver of otter-skin with 
a bow and arrows; for Reynal, an Indian in most things 
but color, chose to hunt buffalo with these primitive weapons. 
In the darkness of this cavernlike habitation might be dis- 
cerned Madame Margot, her overgrown bulk stowed away 
among her domestic implements, furs, robes, blankets, and 
painted cases of par jleche^ in which dried meat is kept. 
Here she sat from sunrise to sunset, 2c bloated impersonation 
of gluttony and laziness, while her affectionate proprietor 
was smoking, or begging petty gifts from us, or telling lies 
concerning his own achievements, or perchance engaged in 
the more profitable occupation of cooking some preparation 
of prairie delicacies. Reynal was an adept at this work; 
he and Deslauriers have joined forces, and are hard at 

1 Rawhide. 



The War Parties 145 

work together over the fire, while Raymond spreads, by way 
of tablecloth, a buffalo hide, carefully whitened with pipe- 
clay, on the grass before the tent. Here, with ostentatious 
display, he arranges the teacups and plates; and then, creep- 
ing on all fours like a dog, he thrusts his head in at the 
opening of the tent. For a moment we see his round owlish 
eyes rolling wildly, as if the idea he came to communicate 
had suddenly escaped him ; then collecting his scattered 
thoughts, as if by an effort, he informs us that supper is 
ready, and instantly withdraws. 

When sunset came, and at that hour the wild and deso- 
late scene would assume a new aspect, the horses were driven 
in. They had been grazing all day in the neighboring 
meadow, but now they were picketed close about the camp. 
As the prairie darkened we sat and conversed around the 
fire, until, becoming drowsy, we spread our saddles on the 
ground, wrapped our blankets around us, and lay down. 
We never placed a guard, having by this time become too 
indolent ; but Henry Chatillon folded his loaded rifle in the 
same blanket with himself, observing that he always took it 
to bed with him when he camped in that place. Henry was 
too bold a man to use such a precaution without good cause. 
We had a hint now and then that our situation was none 
of the safest: several Crow war parties were known to be 
in the vicinity, and one of them, that passed here some time 
before, had peeled the bark from a neighboring tree and 
engraved upon the white wood certain hieroglyphics, to sig- 
nify that they had invaded the territories of their enemies, 
the Dakota, and set them at defiance. One morning a thick 
mist covered the whole country. Shaw and Henry went 
out to ride, and soon came back with a startling piece of 
intelligence: they had found within rifle-shot of our camp 
the recent trail of about thirty horsemen. They could not 
be whites, and they could not be Dakota, since we knew 
no such parties to be in the neighborhood ; therefore they 



146 The Oregon Trail 

must be Crows. Thanks to that friendlj^ mist, we had 
escaped a hard battle ; they would inevitabl}^ have attacked 
us and our Indian companions had they seen our camp. 
Whatever doubts we might have entertained were quite 
removed a day or two after by two or three Dakota, who 
came to us with an account of having hidden in a ravine on 
that very morning, from whence they saw and counted the 
Crowds; they said that they followed them, carefully keeping 
out of sight, as they passed up Chugwater;^ that here the 
Crows discovered five dead bodies of Dakota, placed accord- 
ing to the national custom in trees, and flinging them to the 
ground, they held their guns against them and blew them 
to atoms. 

If our camp were not altogether safe, still It was com- 
fortable enough ; at least it was so to Shaw, for I was tor- 
mented with illness and vexed by the delay in the accom- 
plishment of my designs. When a respite in my disorder 
gave me some returning strength, I rode out well-armed 
upon the prairie, or bathed with Shaw in the stream, or 
waged a petty w^arfare with the inhabitants of a neighboring 
prairie-dog village. Around our fire at night we employed 
ourselves in inveighing against the fickleness and inconstancy 
of Indians, and execrating The Whirlwind and all his vil- 
lage. At last the thing grew insufferable. 

''To-morrow morning," said I, "I will start for the fort, 
and see if I can hear any news there." Late that evening, 
w^hen the fire had sunk low and all the camp were asleep, 
a loud cry sounded from the darkness. Hfenry started up, 
recognized the voice, replied to it, and our dandy friend. The 
Horse, rode in among us, just returned from his mission 
to the village. He coolly picketed his mare without saying a 
word, sat down by the fire and began to eat, but his imper- 
turbable philosophy was too much for our patience. Where 
was the village? about fifty miles south of us; it was mov- 

'Chugwater Creek, Wyoming. 



The War Parties 147 

ing slowly and would not arrive in less than a week ; and 
where was Henry's squaw? coming as fast as she could with 
Mahto-Tatonka and the rest of her brothers, but she would 
never reach us, for she was dying, and asking every moment 
for Henry. Henry's manly face became clouded and down- 
cast; he said that if we were willing he would go in the 
morning to find her, at which Shaw offered to accompany 
him. 

We saddled our horses at sunrise. Reynal protested 
vehemently against being left alone, with nobody but the two 
Canadians and the young Indians, when enemies were in the 
neighborhood. Disregarding his complaints, we left him, 
and comJng to the mouth of Chugw^ater, separated, Shaw 
and Henry turning to the right, up the bank of the stream, 
while I made for the fort. 

Taking leave for a while of my friend and the unfortu- 
nate squaw", I will relate by way of episode what I saw and 
did at Fort Laramie. It was not more than eighteen miles 
distant, and I reached it in three hours; a shriveled little 
figure, wrapped from head to foot in a dingy white Canadian 
capote, stood in the gateway, holding by a cord of bull's 
hide a shaggy wild horse which he had lately caught. His 
sharp, prominent features and his little, keen, snakelike eyes, 
looked out from beneath the shadowy hood of the capote, 
which w^as drawn over his head exactly like the cowl of a 
Capuchin friar.^ His face was extremely thin and like an 
old piece of leather, and his mouth spread from ear to ear. 
Extending his long wiry hand, he w^elcomed me w^ith some- 
thing more cordial than the ordinary cold salute of an 
Indian, for we were excellent friends. He had made an 
exchange of horses to our mutual advantage; and Paul, 
thinking himself well-treated, had declared everywhere that 
the white man had a good heart. He was a Dakota from 

^A member of the Franciscan order established by Francis of Assissi, b. 
1182?, d. 1226; called Capuchins (Latin caput) iroxv the hood or cowl commonly 
worn. 



148 The Oregon Trail 

the Missouri, a reputed son of the half-breed interpreter, 
Pierre Dorion, so often mentioned in Irving's "Astoria."^ He 
said that he was going to Richard's trading house to sell his 
horse to some emigrants who were encamped there, and asked 
me to go with him. We forded the stream together, Paul 
dragging his wild charge behind him. As we passed over 
the sandy plains beyond, he grew quite communicative. Paul 
was a cosmopolitan in his way; he had been to the settle- 
ments of the w^hites, and visited in peace and war most of 
the tribes within the range of a thousand miles. He spoke 
a jargon of French and another of English, yet nevertheless 
he was a thorough Indian ; and as he told of the bloody deeds 
of his own people against their enemies, his little eye would 
glitter with a fierce lustre. He told how the Dakota exter- 
minated a village of the Hohays on the Upper Missouri, 
slaughtering men, women, and children; and how an over- 
whelming force of them cut off sixteen of the brave Dela- 
wares, who fought like wolves to the last, amid the throng 
of their enemies. He told me also another story, which I 
did not believe until I had heard it confirmed from so many 
independent sources that no room was left for doubt. I am 
tempted to introduce it here. 

Six years ago a fellow named Jim Beckwith, a mongrel 
of French, American, and negro blood, was trading for the 
Fur Company in a very large village of the Crows. Jim 
Beckwith was last summer at St. Louis. He is a ruffian of 
the first stamp, bloody and treacherous, without honor or 
honesty; such at least is the character he bears upon the 
prairie. Yet in his case all the standard rules of character 
fail, for though he will stab a man in his sleep, he will also 
perform most desperate acts of daring; such, for instance, 
as the following. While he was in the Crow village, a 
Blackfoot war party, between thirty and forty in number, 

lAn invaluable account of J. J. Astor's fur-trading enterprise and of the 
early history of Oregon, published in 1836 



The War Parties 149 

came stealing through the country, killing stragglers and 
carrying off horses. The Crow warriors got upon their 
trail and pressed them so closely that they could not escape; 
at which the Blackfeet, throwing up a semicircular breast- 
work of logs at the foot of a precipice, coolly awaited their 
approach. The logs and sticks, piled four or five feet high, 
protected them in front. The Crows might have swept 
over the breastwork and exterminated their enemies; but 
though outnumbering them tenfold, they did not dream of 
storming the little fortification. Such a proceeding would 
be altogether repugnant to their notions of warfare. Whoop- 
ing and yelling, and jumping from side to side like devils 
incarnate, they showered bullets and arrows upon the logs ; 
not a Blackfoot was hurt, but ' several Crows, in spite of 
their leaping and dodging, were shot down. In this childish 
manner the fight went on for an hour or two. Now and 
then a Crow warrior, in an ecstasy of valor and vainglory, 
would scream forth his war song, boasting himself the 
bravest and greatest of mankind, and grasping his hatchet, 
would rush up and strike it upon the breastwork, and then 
as he retreated to his companions, fall dead under a shower 
of arrows; yet no combined attack seemed to be dreamed of. 
The Blackfeet remained secure in their intrenchment. At 
last Jim Beckwith lost patience. 

"You are all fools and old women," he said to the 
Crows; "come with me, if any of you are brave enough, 
and I will show you how to fight." 

He threw off his trapper's frock of buckskin and stripped 
himself naked like the Indians themselves. He left his 
rifle on the ground, and taking in his hand a small light 
hatchet, he ran over the prairie to the right, concealed by a 
hollow from the eyes of the Blackfeet. Then climbing up 
the rocks, he gained the top of the precipice behind them. 
Forty or fifty young Crow warriors followed him. By the 
cries and whoops that rose from below he knew that the 



150 ' The Oregon Trail 

Blackfeet were just beneath him; and running forward, he 
leaped down the rock into the midst of them. As he fell 
he caught one by the long loose hair, and, dragging him 
down, tomahawked him ; then grasping another by the belt 
at his waist, he struck him also a stunning blow, and gain- 
ing his feet, shouted the Crow war-cry. He swung his 
hatchet so fiercely around him that the astonished Blackfeet 
bore back and gave him room. He might, had he chosen, 
have leaped over the breastwork and escaped ; but this was 
not necessary, for with devilish yells the Crow warriors came 
dropping in quick succession over the rock among their 
enemies. The main body of the Crows, too, answered the 
cry from the front and rushed up simultaneously. The con- 
vulsive struggle within the breastwork was frightful ; for 
an instant the Blackfeet fought and yelled like pent-up tigers ; 
but the butchery w^as soon complete, and the mangled bodies 
lay piled up together under the precipice. Not a Blackfoot 
made his escape. 

As Paul finished his story we came in sight of Richard's 
fort. It stood in the middle of the plain, a disorderly crowd 
of men around it, and an emigrant camp a little in front. 

**Now, Paul," said I, "where are j^our Minnicongew 
lodges?" 

"Not come yet," said Paul, "may be come to-morrow." 
Two large villages of a band of Dakota had come three 
hundred miles from the Missouri, to join in the war, and 
they were expected to reach Richard's that morning. There 
was as yet no sign of their approach; so pushing through a 
noisy, drunken crowd, I entered an apartment of logs and 
mud, the largest in the fort; it was full of men of various 
races and complexions, all more or less drunk. A company 
of California emigrants, it seemed, had made the discovery 
at this late day that they had encumbered themselves with 
too many supplies for their journey. A part, therefore, they 
had throw^n away or sold at great loss to the traders, but had 



The War Parties 151 

determined to get rid of their very copious stock of Missouri 
whisky by drinking it on the spot. Here were maudlin 
squaws stretched on piles of buffalo robes ; squalid Mexicans 
armed with bows and arrow^s; Indians sedately drunk; long- 
haired Canadians and trappers, and American backwoods- 
men in brown homespun, the w^ell-beloved pistol and bowie 
knife displa)'ed openly at their sides. In the middle of the 
room a tall, lank man, with a dingy broadcloth coat, was 
haranguing the company in the style of the stump orator. 
With one hand he sawed the air, and with the other clutched 
firmly a brown jug of whisky, which he applied every moment 
to his lips, forgetting that he had drained the contents long 
ago. Richard formally introduced me to this personage, who 
was no less a man than Colonel R., once the leader of the 
party. Instantly the colonel, seizing me, in the absence of 
buttons, by the leather fringes of my frock, began to define 
his position. His men, he said, had mutinied and deposed 
him, but still he exercised over them the influence of a 
superior mind ; in all but the name he was yet their chief. 
As the colonel spoke, I looked round on the wild assem- 
blage, and could not help thinking that he was but ill quali- 
fied to conduct such men across the desert to California. 
Conspicuous among the rest stood three tall young men, 
grandsons of Daniel Boone. They had clearly inherited the 
adventurous character of that prince of pioneers; but I saw 
no signs of the quiet and tranquil spirit that so remarkably 
distinguished him. 

Fearful was the fate that months after overtook some of 
the members of that party. General Kearny, on his late 
return from California, brought in the account how they 
were Interrupted by the deep snows among the mountains, 
and, maddened by cold and hunger, fed upon each other's 
flesh ! 

I got tired of the confusion. "Come, Paul," said I, "we 
will be off." Paul sat in the sun, under the wall of the fort. 



152 The Oregon Trail 

He jumped up, mounted, and we rode toward Fort Laramie. 
When we reached it, a man came out of the gate with a 
pack at his back and a rifle on his shoulder; others were 
gathering about him, shaking him by the hand, as if taking 
leave. I thought it a strange thing that a man should set 
out alone and on foot for the prairie. I soon got an explana- 
tion. Perrault — this, if I recollect right, was the Canadian's 
name — had quarreled with the bourgeois, and the fort was 
too hot to hold him. Bordeaux, inflated with his transient 
authority, had abused him, and received a blow in return. 
The men then sprang at each other, and grappled in the 
middle of the fort. Bordeaux was down in an instant, at 
the mercy of the incensed Canadian ; had not an old Indian, 
the brother of his squaw, seized hold of his antagonist, he 
would have fared ill. Perrault broke loose from the old 
Indian, and both the white men ran to their rooms for their 
guns; but when Bordeaux, looking from his door, saw the 
Canadian, gun in hand, standing in the area and calling on 
him to come out and fight, his heart failed him ; he chose 
to remain where he was. In vain the old Indian, scandalized 
by his brother-in-law's cowardice, called upon him to go upon 
the prairie and fight it out in the white man's manner; and 
Bordeaux's own squaw, equally incensed, screamed to her 
lord and master that he was a dog and an old woman. It 
all availed nothing. Bordeaux's prudence got the better of 
his valor, and he would not stir. Perrault stood showering 
opprobrious epithets at the recent bourgeois. Growing tired 
of this, he made up a pack of dried meat, and slinging it at 
his back, set out alone for Fort Pierre on the Missouri,^ a 
distance of three hundred miles over a desert country full of 
hostile Indians. 

I remained in the fort that night. In the morning, as I 
was coming out from breakfast, conversing with a trader 
named McCluskey, I saw a strange Indian leaning against 

^Opposite the present Pierre, South Dakota 



The War Parties 153 

the side of the gate. He was a tall, strong man, with heavy 
features. 

"Who is he?" I asked. "That's The Whirlwind," said 
McCluskey. "He is the fellow that made all this stir 
about the war. It's always the way with the Sioux; they 
never stop cutting each other's throats; it's all they are fit 
for; instead of sitting in their lodges and getting robes 
to trade with us in the winter. If this war goes on, we'll 
make a poor trade of It next season, I reckon." 

And this was the opinion of all the traders, who were 
vehemently opposed to the war, from the serious Injury that 
it must occasion to their interests. The Whirlwind left his 
village the day before to make a visit to the fort. His war- 
like ardor had abated not a little since he first conceived the 
design of avenging his son's death. The long and compli- 
cated preparations for the expedition were too much for his 
fickle, inconstant disposition. That morning Bordeaux fast- 
ened upon him, made him presents, and told him that if he 
went to war he would destroy his horses and kill no buffalo 
to trade with the white men; In short, that he was a fool 
to think of such a thing, and had better make up his mind 
to sit quietly in his lodge and smoke his pipe, like a wise 
man. The Whirlwind's purpose was evidently shaken; he 
had become tired, like a child, of his favorite plan. Bordeaux 
exultantly predicted that he would not go to war. My 
philanthropy at that time was no match for my curiosity, 
and I was vexed at the possibility that, after all, I might 
lose the rare opportunity of seeing the formidable ceremonies 
of war. The Whirlwind, however, had merely thrown the 
firebrand ; the conflagration was become general. All the 
western bands of the Dakota were bent on war; and as I 
heard from McCluskey, six large villages were already 
gathered on a little stream, forty miles distant, and were 
daily calling to the Great Spirit^ to aid them in their enter- 

^The Indian conception of God. 



154 The Oregon Trail 

prise. ]\IcCluskey had just left them, and represented them 
as on their way to La Bonte's camp, which they would reach 
in a week, unless they should learn that there were no buf- 
falo there. I did not like this condition, for buffalo this 
season were rare in the neighborhood. There were also the 
two Minnicongew villages that I mentioned before ; but 
about noon, an Indian came from Richard's fort w^ith the 
news that they were quarreling, breaking up, and dispersing. 
So much for the whisky of the emigrants! Finding them- 
selves unable to drink the whole, they had sold the residue 
to these Indians, and it needed no prophet to foretell the 
result; a spark dropped into a powder magazine would not 
have produced a quicker effect. Instantly the old jealousies 
and rivalries and smothered feuds that exist in an Indian 
village broke out into furious quarrels. They forgot the 
warlike enterprise that had already brought them three hun- 
dred miles. They seemed like ungoverned children inflamed 
with the fiercest passions of men. Several of them were 
stabbed in the drunken tumult; and in the morning they scat- 
tered and moved back toward the Missouri in small parties. 
I feared that, after all, the long-projected meeting and the 
ceremonies that were to attend it might never take place, 
and I should lose so admirable an opportunity of seeing the 
Indian under his most fearful and characteristic aspect ; how- 
ever, in foregoing this, I should avoid a very fair probability 
of being plundered and stripped, and, it might be, stabbed 
or shot into the bargain. Consoling myself with this reflec- 
tion, I prepared to carry the news, such as it was, to the 
camp. 

I caught my horse, and to my vexation found he had lost 
a shoe and broken his tender white hoof against the rocks. 
Horses are shod at Fort Laramie at the moderate rate of 
three dollars a foot; so I tied Hendrick to a beam in the 
corral, and summoned Roubidou, the blacksmith. Roubidou, 
with the hoof between his knees, was at work with hammer | 



The War Parties 155 

and file, and I was inspecting the process, when a strange 
voice addressed me. 

"Two more gone under! Well, there is more of us left 
yet. Here's Jean Gras and me off to the mountains to-mor- 
row. Our turn will come next, I suppose. It's a hard life, 
anyhow!" 

I looked up and saw a little man, not much more than 
five feet high, but of very square and strong proportions. 
In appearance he was particularly dingy; for his old buck- 
skin frock was black and polished with time and grease, and 
his belt, knife, pouch, and powder-horn appeared to have 
seen the roughest service. The first joint of each foot was 
entirely gone, having been frozen off several winters before, 
and his moccasins were curtailed in proportion. His whole 
appearance and equipment bespoke the "free trapper."^ He 
had a round, ruddy face, animated with a spirit of careless- 
ness and ga^'^ety not at all in accordance with the words he 
had just spoken. 

"Two m.ore gone," said I; "what do you mean by that?" 

"Oh," said he; "the Arapahos have just killed two of 
us in the mountains. Old Bull-Tail has come to tell us. 
They stabbed one behind his back, and shot the other with 
his own rifle. That's the way we live here ! I mean to 
give up trapping after this year. My squaw says she wants 
a pacing horse and some red ribbons; I'll miake enough 
beaver to get them for her, and then I'm done! I'll go 
below and live on a farm." 

"Your bones will dry on the prairie. Rouleau!" said 
another trapper, who was standing by; a strong, brutal- 
looking fellow, with a face as surly as a bull-dog's. 

Rouleau only laughed, and began to hum a tune and 
shuffle a dance on his stumps of feet. 

"You'll see us, before long, passing up 5^our way," said 
the other man. 

^Not employed by the Fur Company; trapping on his own account. 



156 The Oregon Trail 

"Well," said I, "stop and take a cup of coffee with us;" 
and as it was quite late in the afternoon, I prepared to leave 
the fort at once. 

As I rode out, a train of emigrant w^agons was passing 
across the stream. "Whar are ye goin', stranger?" Thus 
I was saluted by two or three \'oices at once. 

"About eighteen miles up the creek." 

"It's mighty late to be going that far! Make haste, 
ye'd better, and keep a bright lookout for Indians !" 

I thought the advice too good to be neglected. Fording 
the stream, I passed at a round trot over the plains bej'ond. 
But "the more haste, the worse speed." I proved the truth 
of the proverb by the time I reached the hills three miles 
from the fort. The trail was faintly marked, and riding 
forward w^ith more rapidity than caution, I lost sight of it. 
I kept on in a direct line, guided by Laramie Creek, which 
I could see at intervals darkly glistening in the evening sun, 
at the bottom of the woody gulf on my right. Half an hour 
before sunset I came upon its banks. There was something 
exciting in the wild solitude of the place. An antelope 
sprang suddenly from the sage-bushes before me. As he 
leaped gracefully not thirty yards before my horse, I fired, 
and instantly he spun round and fell. Quite sure of him, I 
walked my horse toward him, leisurely reloading my rifle, 
when to my surprise he sprang up and trotted rapidly away 
on three legs into the dark recesses of the hills, whither I 
had no time to follow. Ten minutes after, I was passing 
along the bottom of a deep valley, and chancing to look 
behind me, I saw in the dim light that something was follow- 
ing. Supposing it to be a wolf, I slid from my seat and sat 
down behind my horse to shoot it; but as it came up, I saw 
by its motions that it was another antelope. It approached 
within a hundred yards, arched its graceful neck, and gazed 
intently. I leveled at the white spot on its chest, and was 
about to fire, when it started off, ran first to one side and 



The War Parties 157 

then to the other, like a vessel tacking against a wind, and 
at last stretched away at full speed. Then it stopped again, 
looked curiously behind it, and trotted up as before ; but 
not so boldly, for it soon paused and stood gazing at me. 
I fired; it leaped upward and fell upon its tracks. Measur- 
ing the distance, I found it two hundred and four paces. 
When I stood by his side, the antelope turned hns expiring 
eye upward. It was like a beautiful woman's, dark' and rich. 
"Fortunate that I am in a hurry," thought I; "I might be 
troubled with remorse, if I had time for it." 

Cutting the animal up, not in the most skillful manner, 
I hung the meat at the back of my saddle, and rode on again. 
The hills (I could not remember one of them) closed around 
me. "It is too late," thought I, "to go forward. I will stay 
here to-night, and look for the path in the morning." As 
a last effort, however, I ascended a high hill, from which, 
to my great satisfaction, I could see Laramie Creek stretch- 
ing before me, twisting from side to side amid ragged patches 
of timber ; and far off, close beneath the shadow^s of the trees, 
the ruins of the old trading fort were visible. I reached 
them at twilight. It was far from pleasant, in that uncertain 
light, to be pushing through the dense trees and shrubbery 
of the grove be)ond. I listened anxiously for the foot-fall 
of man or beast. Nothing was stirring but one harmless 
brown bird, chirping among the branches. I was glad when 
I gained the open prairie once more, where I could see if 
anything approached. When I came to the mouth of Chug- 
water, it was totally dark. Slackening the reins, I let my horse 
take his own course. He trotted on with unerring instinct, 
and by nine o'clock was scrambling down the steep descent 
into the meadows where w^e were encamped. While I was 
looking in vain for the light of the fire, Hendrick, with keener 
perceptions, gave a loud neigh, which was immediately an- 
swered in a shrill note from the distance. In a moment I 



158 The Oregon Trail 

was hailed from the darkness by the voice of Reynal, who 
had come out, rifle in hand, to see who was approaching. 

He, with his squaw, the two Canadians and the Indian 
boys, were the sole inmates of the camp, Shaw and Henry ,; 
Chatillon being still absent. At noon of the following day j 
they came back, their horses looking none the better for the ; 
journey. .Henry seemed dejected. The woman was dead, 
and his children must henceforward be exposed, without j 
a protector, to the hardships and vicissitudes of Indian life. 
Even in the midst of his grief he had not forgotten his attach- ! 
ment to his bourgeois, for he had procured among his Indian \ 
relatives two beautifully ornamented buffalo robes, which i 
he spread on the ground as a present to us. \ I 

Shaw lighted his pipe, and told me in a few words the 
history of his journey. When I went to the fort they left ! 
me, as I mentioned, at the mouth of Chugwater. They 
followed the course of the little stream all day, traversing i 
a desolate and barren country. Several times they came ' 
upon the fresh traces of a large war party — the sam.e, no 
doubt, from whom we had so narrowly escaped an attack. 
At an hour before sunset, without encountering a human 
being by the way, they came upon the lodges of the squaw , 
and her brothers, who, in compliance with Henry's message, 
had left the Indian village in order to join us at our camp. 
The lodges were already pitched, five in number, by the side 
of the stream. The woman lay in one of them, reduced to a 
mere skeleton. For some time she had been unable to move 
or speak. Indeed, nothing had kept her alive but the hope 
of seeing Henry, to whom she was strongly and faithfully 
attached. No sooner did he enter the lodge than she re- 
vived, and conversed with him the greater part of the night. 
Early in the morning she was lifted into a travail, and the 
whole party set out toward our camp. There were but five 
warriors; the rest were women and children. The whole 
were in great alarm at the proximity of the Crow war party, 



The War Parties 159 

who would certainl}'^ have destroj^ed them without mercy 
h.ad they met. They had advanced only a mile or two w^hen 
they /discerned a horseman, far off on the edge of the horizon. 
They all stopped, gathering together in the greatest anxiety, 
from which they did not recover until long after the horse- 
man disappeared ; then they set out again. Henry was riding 
with Shaw a few rods in advance of the Indians, when 
IMahto-Tatonka, a 5'ounger brother of the woman, hastily 
called after them. Turning back, they found all the Indians 
crowded around the travail in which the woman was lying. 
They reached her just in time to hear the death-rattle in her 
throat. In a moment she lay dead in the basket of the 
vehicle. A complete stillness succeeded ; then the Indians 
raised in concert their cries of lamentation over the corpse, 
and among them Shaw clearly distinguished those strange 
sounds resembling the word "Hallelujah," w^hich, together 
with some other accidental coincidences, has given rise to 
the absurd theory that the Indians are descended from the 
ten lost tribes of Israel. 

The Indian usage required that Henry, as well as the 
other relatives of the woman, should make valuable presents, 
to be placed by the side of the body at its last resting place. 
Leaving the Indians, he and Shaw set out for the camp and 
reached it, as we have seen, by hard pushing, at about noon. . 
Having obtained the necessary articles, they immediately 
returned. It w^as very late and quite dark when they again 
reached the lodges. They were all placed in a deep hollow 
among the dreary hills. Four of them w^ere just visible 
through the gloom, but the fifth and largest was illuminated 
by the ruddy blaze of a fire w^ithin, glowing through the 
half-transparent covering of rawhides. There was a perfect 
stillness as they approached. The lodges seemed without a 
tenant. Not a living thing was stirring: there was some- 
thing awful in the scene. They rode up to the entrance of 
the lodge, and there was no sound but the tramp of their 



160 The Oregon Trail 

horses. A squaw came out and took charge or the animals, 
without speaking a word. Entering, they found the lodge 
crowded with Indians; a fire was burning in the midst, and 
the mourners encircled it in a triple row. Room was made 
for the newcomers at the head of the lodge, a robe spread 
for them to sit upon, and a pipe lighted and handed to them 
in perfect silence. Thus they passed the greater part of the 
night. At times the fire would subside into a heap of embers, 
until the dark figures seated around it were scarcely visible ; 
then a squaw would drop upon it a piece of buffalo-fat, 
and a bright flame, instantly springing up, would reveal on 
a sudden the crowd of wild faces, motionless as bronze. The 
silence continued unbroken. It was a relief to Shaw when 
daylight returned and he could escape from this house of 
mourning. He and Henry prepared to return homeward ; 
first, however, they placed the presents they had brought 
near the body of the squaw, which, most gaudily attired, 
remained in a sitting posture in one of the lodges. A fine 
horse was picketed not far off, destined to be killed that 
morning for the service of her spirit, for the woman was 
lame, and could not travel on foot over the dismal prairies 
to the villages of the dead. Food, too, was provided, and 
household implements, for her use upon this last journey. 

Henry left her to the care of her relatives, and came 
immediately with Shaw to the camp. It was some time 
before he entirely recovered from his dejection. 



CHAPTER XI 

SCENES AT THE CAMP 

Reynal heard guns fired one day, at the distance of a 
mile or two from the camp. He grew nervous instantly. 
Visions of Crow war parties began to haunt his imagination ; 
and when we returned (for we were all absent), he renewed 
his complaints about being left alone with the Canadians 
and the squaw. The day after, the cause of the alarm 
appeared. Four trappers, one called Morafl, another Sara- 
phin, and the others nicknamed ''Rouleau" and "Jean Gras,'* 
came to our camp and joined us. They it was who fired 
the guns and disturbed the dreams of our confederate Reynal. 
They soon encamped by our side. Their rifles, dingy and 
battered with hard service, rested with' ours against the old 
tree; their strong rude saddles, their buffalo robes, their 
traps, and the few rough and simple articles of their travel- 
ing equipment, w^ere piled near our tent. Their mountain 
horses were turned to graze in the meadow among our ow^n ; 
and the men themselves, no less rough and hardy, used to 
lie half the day in the shade of our tree lolling on the grass, 
lazily smoking, and telling stories of their adventures; and 
I defy the annals of chivalry to furnish the record of a life 
more wild and perilous than that of a Rocky Mountain 
trapper. 

With this efficient re-enforcement the agitation of Rey- 
nal's nerves subsided. He began to conceive a sort of attach- 
ment to our old camping ground; yet it was time to change 
our quarters, since remaining too long on one spot must lead 
to certain unpleasant results not to be borne with unless 
in a case of dire necessity. The grass no longer presented a 
smooth surface of turf; it was trampled Into mud and clay. 

161 



162 The Oregon Trail 

So we removed to another old tree, larger yet, that grew 
by the river side at a furlong's distance. Its trunk was full 
six feet in diameter; on one side it was marked by a party 
of Indians with various inexplicable hieroglyphics, commemo- 
rating som.e warlike enterprise, and aloft among the branches 
were the remains of a scaffolding, where dead bodies had 
once been deposited after the Indian manner. 

''There comes Bull-Bear," said Henry Chatillon, as we 
sat on the grass at dinner. Looking up, we saw several 
horsemen coming over the neighboring hill, and in a moment 
four statel}^ young men rode up and dismounted. One of 
them was Bull-Bear, or Mahto-Tatonka, a compound name 
which he inherited from his father, the most powerful chief 
in the Ogallala band. One of his brothers and two other 
young men accompanied him. We shook hands with the 
visitors, and when we had finished our meal — for this is the 
orthodox manner of entertaining Indians, even the best of 
them — we handed to each a tin cup of coffee and a biscuit, 
at which they ejaculated from the bottom of their throats, 
"How! how!" a monosyllable by which an Indian contrives 
to express half the emotions that he is susceptible of. Then 
we lighted the pipe, and passed it to them as they squatted 
on the ground. 

"Where is the village?" 

"There," said Mahto-Tatonka, pointing southward; "it 
will come in two days." 

"Will they go to the war?" 

"Yes." i^ 

No man is a philanthropist on the prairie. We wel- 
comed this news most cordially, and congratulated ourselves 
that Bordeaux's interested efforts to divert The Whirlwind 
from his congenial vocation of bloodshed had failed of suc- 
cess, and that no additional obstacles would interpose between 
us and our plan of repairing to the rendezvous at La Bonte's 
camp. 



Scenes at the Camp 163 

For that and several succeeding days, Mahto-Tatonka 
and his friends remained our guests. They devoured the 
relics of our meals; they filled the pipe for us and also 
helped us to smoke it. Sometimes they stretched themselves 
side by side in the shade, indulging in raillery and practical 
jokes ill becoming the dignity of brave and aspiring warriors, 
such as two of them in reality were. 

Two days dragged away, and on the morning of the 
third we hoped confidently to see the Indian village. It did 
not come; so we rode out to look for it. In place of the 
eight hundred Indians we expected, we met one solitary 
savage riding toward us over the prairie, who told us that 
the Indians had changed their plans, and would not come 
within three days; still he persisted that they w^re going to 
the war. Taking along with us this messenger of evil 
tidings, we retraced our footsteps to the camp, amusing our- 
selves by the way with execrating Indian inconstancy. When 
we came in sight of our little white tent under the big tree, 
we saw that it no longer stood alone. A huge old lodge 
was erected close by its side, discolored by rain and storms, 
rotted with age, with the uncouth figures of horses and 
men and outstretched hands that were painted upon it well- 
nigh obliterated. The long poles which supported this 
squalid habitation thrust themselves rakishly out from its 
pointed top, and over its entrance were suspended a "medi- 
cine-pipe"^ and various other implements of the magic art. 
While we were yet at a distance, we observed a greatly 
increased population, of various colors and dimensions, 
swarming around our quiet encampment. Moran, the trap- 
per, having been absent for a day or two, had returned, it 
seemed, bringing all his family with him. He had taken to 
himself a wife, for whom he had paid the established price 
of one horse. This looks cheap at first sight, but in truth 
the purchase of a squaw Is a transaction which no man 

1 Magic pipe. 



164 The Oregon Trail 

should enter into without mature deliberation, since it involves 
not only the payment of the first price, but the formidable 
burden of feeding and supporting a rapacious horde of the 
bride's relatives, who hold themselves entitled to feed upon 
the indiscreet white man. They gather round like leeches, 
and drain him of all he has. 

Moran, like Reynal, had not allied himself to an aristo- 
cratic circle. His relatives occupied but a contemptible posi- 
tion in Ogallala society; for among these wild democrats 
of the prairie, as among us, there are virtual distinctions of 
rank and place; though this great advantage they have over 
us, that wealth has no part in determining such distinctions. 
Moran's partner M^as not the most beautiful of her sex, and 
he had the exceedingly bad taste to array her in an old calico 
gown bought from an emigrant woman, instead of the neat 
and graceful tunic of whitened deerskin worn ordinarily by 
the squaws. The moving spirit of the establishment, in 
more senses than one, was a hideous old hag of eighty. 
Human imagination never conceived hobgoblin or witch more 
ugly than she. You could count all her ribs through the 
wrinkles of the leathery skin that covered them. Her with- 
ered face more resembled an old skull than the countenance 
of a living being, even to the hollow, darkened sockets, at 
the bottom of which glittered her little black eyes. Her 
arms had dwindled away into nothing but whipcord and 
wire. Her hair, half black, half gray, hung in total neglect 
nearly to the ground, and her sole garment consisted of the 
remnant of a discarded buffalo robe tied round her waist 
with a string of hide. Yet the old squaw's meager anatomy 
was wonderfully strong. She pitched the lodge, packed the 
horses, and did the hardest labor of the camp. From morn- 
ing till night she bustled about the lodge, screaming like a 
screech-owl when anything displeased her. Then there was 
her brother, a '*medicine-man," or magician, equally gaunt 
and sinewy with herself. His mouth spread from ear to 



Scenes at the Camp 165 

ear, and his appetite, as we had full occasion to learn, was 
ravenous in proportion. The other inmates of the lodge were 
a young bride and bridegroom; the latter one of those idle, 
good-for-nothing fellows who infest an Indian village as well 
as more civilized communities. He was fit neither for hunt- 
ing nor for war; and one might infer as much from the 
stolid, unmeaning expression of his face. The happy pair 
had just entered upon the honeymoon. They would stretch 
a buffalo robe upon poles, so as to protect them from the 
fierce rays of the sun, and spreading beneath this rough 
canopy a luxuriant couch of furs, would sit affectionately 
side by side for half the day, though I could not discover 
that much conversation passed between them. Probablj^ they 
had nothing to say; for an Indian's supply of topics for con- 
versation is far from being copious. There were half a 
dozen children, too, playing and whooping about the camp, 
shooting birds with little bows and arrows, or making minia- 
ture lodges of sticks, as children of a different complexion 
build houses of blocks. 

A day passed, and Indians began rapidly to come in. 
Parties of tw^o or three or more would ride up and silently 
seat themselves on the grass. The fourth day came at last, 
when about noon horsemen suddenly appeared in view on 
the summit of the neighboring ridge. They descended, and 
behind them. followed a wild procession, hurrying in haste 
and disorder down the hill and over the plain below ; horses, 
mules, and dogs, heavily burdened travaux, mounted war- 
riors, squaws walking amid the throng, and a host of chil- 
dren. For a full half-hour they continued to pour down ; 
and keeping directly to the bend of the stream, within a 
furlong of us, they soon assembled there, a dark and con- 
fused throng, until, as if by magic, one hundred and fifty 
tall lodges sprung up. On a sudden the lonely plain was 
transformed into the site of a miniature city. Countless 
horses were soon grazing over the meadows around us, and 



166 The Oregon Trail 

the whole prairie was animated by restless figures careering 
on horseback, or sedately stalking in their long white robes. 
The Whirlwind was Come at last! One question yet 
remained to be answered : ''Will he go to the war, in order ' 
that we, with so respectable an escort, may pass over to the 
somewhat 'perilous rendezvous at La Bonte's camp?" 

Still tliis remained in doubt. Characteristic indecision 
perplexed their councils. Indians cannot act in large bodies. 
Though their object be of the highest importance, they can- 
not combine to Attain it by a series of connected efforts. 
King Philip, Pontiac, and Tecumseh all felt this to their 
cost. The Ogallala once had a war chief who could control 
them; but he was dead, and now they were left to the sway 
of their own unsteady impulses. 

This Indian village and its inhabitants will hold a promi- 
nent place in the rest of the narrative, and perhaps it may 
not be amiss to glance for an instant at the savage people 
of which they form a part. The Dakota (I prefer this 
national designation to the unmeaning French name, Sioux) 
range over a vast territory, from the river St. Peter's to the 
Rocky Mountains themselves. They are divided into sev- 
eral independent bands, united under no central government, 
and acknowledge no common head. The same language, 
usages, and superstitions form the sole bond between them. 
They do not unite even in their wars. The bands of the 
east fight the Ojibwas on the Upper Lakes; those of the 
west make incessant war upon the Snake Indians in the 
Rocky Mountains. As the whole people is divided into 
bands, so each band is divided into villages. Each village 
has a chief, who is honored and obeyed only so far as his 
personal qualities may command respect and fear. Some- ^ 
times he is a mere nominal chief ; sometimes his authority ] 
is little short of absolute, and his fame and influence re^ich 
even beyond his own village ; so that the whole band to which 
he belongs is ready to acknowledge him as their head. This 



Scenes at the Camp 167 

was, a few years since, the case with the Ogallala. Courage, 
address, and enterprise may raise any w^arrior to the highest 
honor, especially if he be the son of a former chief, or a 
member of a numerous family, to support him and avenge 
his quarrels; but when he has reached the dignity of chief, 
and the old men and warriors, by a peculiar ceremony, have 
formally installed him, let it not be imagined that he assumes 
any of the outward semblances of rank and honor. He 
knows too well on how frail a tenure he holds his station. 
Hie must conciliate his uncertain subjects. Many a man in 
the village lives better, owns more squaws and more horses, 
and goes better clad than he. Like the Teutonic chiefs of 
old, he ingratiates himself with his young men by making 
them presents, thereby often impoverishing himself. Does 
he fail in gaining their favor, they will set his authority 
at naught, and may desert him at any moment; for the 
usages of his people have provided no sanctions by which he 
may enforce his authority. Very seldom does it happen, at 
least among these western bands, that a chief attains to 
much power unless he is the head of a numerous family. 
Frequently the village is principally made up of his relatives 
and dfescendants, and the wandering community assumes 
much of the patriarchal character. A people so loosely united, 
torn, too, w^ith rankling feuds and jealousies, can have little, 
power or efficiency. 

The western Dakota have no fixed habitations. Hunt- 
ing and fighting, they wander incessantly through summer 
and winter. Some are following the herds of buffalo over 
the waste of prairie; others are traversing the Black Hills, 
thronging on horseback and on foot through the dark gulfs 
and somber gorges beneath the vast splintering precipices, 
and emerging at last upon the 'Tarks,"^ those beautiful but 
most perilous hunting grounds. The buffalo supplies them 
with almost all the necessaries of life: with habitations, food, 

^Valleys or open spaces between mountains or forests, suitable for grazing. 



168 The Oregon Trail 

clothing, and fuel; with strings for their bows, \vi:h thread, 
cordage, and trail-ropes for their horses, with coverings for 
their saddles, with vessels to hold water, with boats to cross 
streams, with glue, and with the means of purchasing all 
that they desire from the traders. When the buffalo are 
extinct, they too must dwindle away. 

War is the breath of their nostrils. Against most of the 
neighboring tribes they cherish a deadly, rancorous hatred, 
transmitted from father to son, and inflamed by constant 
aggression and retaliation. Many times a year, in every vil- 
lage, the Great Spirit is called upon, fasts are made, the war 
parade is celebrated, and the warriors go out by handfuls 
at a time against the enemy. This fierce and evil spirit 
awakens their most eager aspirations and calls forth their 
greatest energies. It is chiefly this that saves them from 
lethargy and utter abasement. Without its powerful stimu- 
lus they would be like the unwarlike tribes beyond the 
mountains, w^ho are scattered among the caves and rocks like 
beasts, living on roots and reptiles. These latter have little 
of humanity except the form; but the proud and ambitious 
Dakota warrior* can sometimes boast of heroic virtues. It 
is very seldom that distinction and influence are attained 
among them by any other course than that of arms. Their 
superstition, however, sometimes gives great power to those 
among them who pretend to the character of magicians. 
Their wild hearts, too, can feel the power of oratory and 
yield deference to the masters of it. 

But to return. Look into our tent, or enter, if you can 
bear the stifling smoke and the close atmosphere. There, 
wedged close together, you will see a circle of stout war- 
riors, passing the pipe around, joking, telling stories, and 
making themselves merry after their fashion. We were 
also infested by little copper-colored naked boys and snake- 
eyed girls. They would come up to us, muttering certain 
words, which being interpreted conveyed the concise invita- 



Scenes at the Camp 169 

tion, "Come and eat." Then we would rise, cursing the 
pertinacity of Dakota hospitality, which allowed scarcely an 
hour of rest between sun and sun, and to which we were 
bound to do honor unless we would offend our entertainers. 
This necessity was particularly burdensome to me, as I was 
scarcely able to walk from the effects of illness, and was of 
course poorly qualified to dispose of twenty meals a day. 
Of these sumptuous banquets I gave a specimen in a former 
chapter, where the tragical fate of the little dog was chron- 
icled. So bounteous an entertainment looks like an outgush- 
ing of good will; but doubtless one-half at least of our kind 
hosts, had they met us alone and unarmed on the prairie, 
would have robbed us of our horses, and perchance have 
bestowed an arrow upon us beside. Trust not an Indian. 
Let your rifle be ever in your hand. Wear next your heart 
the old chivalric motto, Semper Paratus.^ 

One morning we were summoned to the lodge of an old 
man, in good truth the Nestor of his tribe. We found him 
half sitting, half reclining on a pile of buffalo robes ; his long 
hair, jet-black even now, though he had seen some eighty 
winters, hung on either side of his thin features. Those 
most conversant with Indians in their homes will scarcely 
believe me when I affirm that there was dignity in his counte- 
nance and mien. His gaunt but symmetrical frame did not 
more clearly exhibit the wreck of bygone strength, than did 
his dark, wasted features, still prominent and commanding, 
bear the stamp of mental energies. I recalled, as I saw him, 
the eloquent metaphor of the Iroquois sachem: "I am an 
aged hemlock ; the winds of a hundred winters have whistled 
through my branches, and I am dead at the top !" Opposite 
the patriarch was his nephew, the young aspirant Mahto- 
Tatonka; and besides these, there were one or two women 
in the lodge. 

The old man's story is peculiar, and singularly illustra- 

*Always ready. 



170 The Oregon Trail 

tive of a superstitious custom that prevails in full force 
among many of the Indian tribes. He was one of a power- 
ful family renowned for their warlike exploits. When a 
very joung mnn, he submitted to the singular rite to which 
most of the tribe subject themselves before entering upon 
life. He painted his face black; then seeking out a cavern 
in a sequestered part of the Black Hills, he lay for several 
days, fasting and praying to the Great Spirit. In the dreams 
and visions produced by his weakened and excited state, he 
fancied, like all Indians, that he saw supernatural revela- 
tions. Again and again the form of an antelope appeared 
before him. The antelope is the graceful peace spirit of the 
Ogallala; but seldom is it that such a gentle visitor presents 
itself during the initiatory fasts of their young men. The 
terrible grizzly bear, the divinity of war, usually appears to 
fire them with martial ardor and thirst for renown. At 
length the antelope spoke. He told the young dreamer that 
he was not to follow the path of war; that a life of peace 
and tranquillity was marked out for him ; that henceforward 
he w^as to guide the people by his counsels and protect them 
from the evils of their own feuds and dissensions. Others 
were to gain renown by fighting the enemy, but greatness 
of a different kind was in store for him. 

The visions beheld during the period of this fast usually 
determine the whole course of the dreamer's life, for an 
Indian is bound by iron superstitions. From that time, 
Le Borgne, which was the only name by which we knew 
him, abandoned all thoughts of war and devoted himself 
to the labors of peace. He told his vision to the people. 
They honored his commission and respected him. in his novel 
capacity. 

A far different man was his brother, M ah to-Ta tonka, 
who had transmitted his names, his features, and many of 
his characteristic qualities to his son. He was the father of 
Henry Chatillon's squaw, a circumstance which proved of 



Scenes at the Camp 17i 

some advantage to us, as securing for us the friendship of 
a family perhaps the most distinguished and powerful in the 
whole Ogallala band. Mahto-Tatonka, in his rude way, 
was a hero. No chief could vie with him in warlike renown 
or in power over his people. He had a fearless spirit and a 
most impetuous and inflexible resolution. His will was law. 
He was politic and sagacious, and with true Indian craft he 
always befriended the whites, wtU knowing that he might 
thus reap great advantages for himself and his adherents. 
When he had resolved on any course of conduct, he would 
pay to the w^arriors the empty compliment of calling them 
together to deliberate upon it, and when their debates were 
over, he would quietly state his own opinion, which no one 
ever disputed. The consequences of thwarting his imperious 
will were too formidable to be encountered. Woe to those 
who incurred his displeasure! He would strike them or 
stab them on the spot; and this act, which, if attempted by 
any other chief, would instantly have cost him his life, the 
awe inspired by his name enabled him to repeat again and 
again with impunity. In a community where, from imme- 
morial time, no man has acknowledged any law but his own 
will, Mahto-Tatonka, by the force of his dauntless resolu- 
tion, raised himself to power little short of despotic. His 
haughty career came at last to an end. He had a host of 
enemies only waiting for their opportunity of revenge, and 
our old friend Smoke, in particular, together with all his 
kinsmen, hated him most cordially. Smoke sat one day in 
his lodge in the midst of his own village, when Mahto- 
Tatonka entered it alone, and approaching the dwelling of 
his enemy, called on him in a loud voice to come out, if he 
were a man, and fight. Smoke would not move. At this, 
Mahto-Tatonka proclaimed him a coward and an old woman, 
and striding close to the entrance of the lodge, stabbed the 
chief's best horse, which was picketed there. Smoke was 
daunted, and even this insult failed to call him forth. Mahto- 



172 The Oregon Trail 

Tatonka moved haughtily away; all made way for hfm, but 
his hour of reckoning was near. 

One hot day, five or six years ago, numerous lodges of 
Smoke's kinsmen were gathered around some of the Fur 
Company's men, who were trading in various articles with 
them, whisky among the rest. Mahto-Tatonka was also 
there with a few of his people. As he lay in his own lodge, 
a fray arose between his adherents and the kinsmen of his 
enemy. The war-whoop was raised, bullets and arrows began 
to fly, and the camp was in confusion. The chief sprang up, 
and rushing in a fury from the lodge, shouted to the com- 
batants on both sides to cease. Instantly — for the attack was 
preconcerted — came the reports of two or three guns and 
the twanging of a dozen bows, and the savage hero, mortally 
wounded, pitched forward headlong to the ground. Rouleau 
was present, and told me the particulars. The tumult became 
general, and was not quelled until several had fallen on both 
sides. When we were in the country the feud between the 
two families was still rankling, and not likely soon to cease. 

Thus died Mahto-Tatonka, but he left behind him a 
goodly army of descendants, to perpetuate his renown and 
avenge his fate. Besides daughters he had thirty sons. . . . 
We saw many of them, all marked by the same dark com- 
plexion and the same peculiar cast of features. Of these 
our visitor, j'oung Mahto-Tatonka, was the eldest, and some 
reported him as likely to succeed to his father's honors. 
Though he appeared not more than twenty-one years old, 
he had oftener struck the enemy, and stole more horses and 
more squaws, than any young man in the village. We of 
the civilized world are not apt to attach much credit to the 
latter species of exploits ; but horse-stealing is well known 
as an avenue to distinction on the prairies, and the other 
kind of depredation is esteemed equally meritorious. Not 
that the act can confer fame from its own intrinsic merits. 
Any one can steal a squaw, and if he chooses afterward to 



Scenes at the Camp 173 

make an adequate present to her rightful proprietor, the 
easy husband for the most part rests content, his vengeance 
falls asleep; and all danger from that quarter is averted. 
Yet this is esteemed but a pitiful and mean-spirited transac- 
tion. The danger is averted, but the glory of the achieve- 
ment also is lest. Mahto-Tatonka proceeded after a more 
gallant and dashing fashion. Out of several dozen squaws 
whom he had stolen, he could boast that he had never paid 
for one, but snapping his fingers in the face of the injured 
husband, had defied the extremity of his indignation, and no 
one 5^et had dared to lay the finger of violence upon him. 
He was following close in the footsteps of his father. The 
young men and the young squaws, each in their way, admired 
him. The one would always follow him to w^ar, and he 
was esteemed to have an unrivaled charm in the eyes of the 
other. Perhaps his impunity may excite some wonder. An 
arrow shot from a ravine, a stab given in the dark, require 
no great valor and are especially suited to the Indian genius ; 
but Mahto-Tatonka had a strong protection. It was not 
alone his courage and audacious will that enabled him to 
career so dashingly among his compeers. His enemies did 
not forget that he was one of thirty warlike brethren, all 
growing up to manhood. Should they wreak their anger 
upon him, many keen eyes would be ever upon them, many 
fierce hearts would thirst for their blood. The avenger 
would dog their footsteps everywhere. To kill Mahto- 
Tatonka would be no better than an act of suicide. 

Though he found such favor in the eyes of the fair, he 
was no dandy. As among us those of highest worth and 
breeding are most simple in manner and attire, so our aspiring 
young friend was indifferent to the gaudy trappings and 
ornaments of his companions. He w^as content to rest his 
chances of success upon his ow^n warlike merits. He never 
arrayed himself in gaudy blanket and glittering necklaces, 
but left his statue-like form, limbed like an Apbllo of bronze, 



174 The Oregon Trail 

to win its way to favor. His voice was singularly deep and 
strong. It sounded from his chest like the deep notes of an 
organ. Yet, after all, he was but an Indian. See him as 
he lie' jere in the sun before our tent, kicking his heels in 
the air and cracking jokes with his brother. Does he look 
like a hero? See him now in the hour of his glory, when at 
sunset the whole village empties itself to behold him, for 
to-morrow their favorite young partisan goes out against the 
enemy. His superb headdress is adorned with a crest of the 
war eagle's feathers, rising in a waving ridge above his 
brow, and sweeping far behind him. His round white shield 
hangs at his breast, with feathers radiating from the center 
like a star. His quiver is at his back, his tall lance in his 
hand, the iron point flashing against the declining sun, while 
the long scalp-locks of his enemies flutter from the shaft. 
Thus, gorgeous as a champion in his panoply, he rides round 
and round within the great circle of lodges, balancing with 
a graceful buoyancy to the free movements of his war horse, 
while with a sedate brow he sings his song to the Great 
Spirit. Young rival warriors look askance at him, vermilion- 
cheeked girls gaze in admiration, boys whoop and scream 
in a thrill of delight, and old women j^ell forth his name 
and proclaim his praises from lodge to lodge. 

Mahto-Tatonka, to come back to him, was the best of all 
our Indian friends. Hour after hour and day after day, 
when swarms of savages of every age, sex, and degree beset 
our camp, he would lie in our tent, his lynx eye ever open 
to guard our property from pillage. 

The Whirlwind invited us one day to his lodge. The 
feast was finished and the pipe began to circulate. It was a 
remarkably large and fine one, and I expressed my admira- 
tion of its form and dimensions. 

"If the Meneaska likes the pipe," asked The Whirlwind, 
*'why does he not keep it?" 

Such a pipe among the Ogallala is valued at the price 



Scenes at the Camp 175 

of a horse. A princely gift, thinks the reader, and worthy 
of a chieftain and a warrior. The Whirlwind's generosity 
rose to no such pitch. He gave me the pipe, confidently 
expecting that I in return should make him a present of 
equal or superior value. This is the implied condition of 
every gift among the Indians as among the Orientals, and 
should it not be complied with the present is usually 
reclaimed by the giver. So I arranged upon a gaudy calico 
handkerchief an assortment of vermilion, tobacco, knives, 
and gunpowder, and summoning the chief to camp, assured 
him of my friendship and begged his acceptance of a slight 
token of it. Ejaculating hozv! hoivl he folded up the offer- 
ings and withdrew to his lodge. 

Several daj^s passed, and we and the Indians remained 
encamped side by side. They could not decide whether or 
not to go to the war. Toward evening, scores of them 
would surround our tent, a picturesque group. Late one 
afternoon a party of them, mounted on horseback, came 
suddenly in sight from behind some clumps of bushes that 
lined the baiik of the stream, leading with them a mule on 
whose back was a wretched negro, only sustained in his 
seat by the high pommel and cantle of the Indian saddle. 
His cheeks were withered and shrunken in the hollow of 
his jaws, his ej^es were unnaturally dilated, and his lips 
seemed shriveled and drawn back from his teeth like those 
of a corpse. When they brought him up before our tent and 
lifted him from the saddle, he could not walk or stand, but 
he crawled a short distance, and with a look of utter misery 
sat down on the grass. All the children and women came 
pouring out of the lodges round us, and with screams and 
cries made a close circle about him, while he sat supporting 
himself with his hands, and looking from side to side with 
a vacant stare. The wretch was starving to death ! For 
thirty-three days he had wandered alone on the prairie 
without weapon of any kind ; without shoes, moccasins, or 



176 The Oregon Trail 

any other clothing than an old jacket and pantaloons; with- 
out intelligence and skill to guide his course, or any knowl- 
edge of the productions of the prairie. All this time he 
had subsisted on crickets and lizards, wild onions, and three 
eggs which he found in the nest of a prairie dove. He had 
not seen a human being. Utterly bewildered in the bound- 
less, hopeless desert that stretched around him, offering to 
his inexperienced eye no mark by which to direct his course, 
he had walked on in despair till he could walk no longer, 
and then crawled on his knees until the bone was laid bare. 
He chose the night for his traveling, lying down by day to 
sleep in the glaring sun, always dreaming, as he said, of the 
broth and corn cake he used to eat under his old master's 
shed in Missouri. Every man in the camp, both white and 
red, was astonished at his wonderful escape, not only from 
starvation, but from the grizzly bears which abound in that 
neighborhood, and the wolves which howled around him 
every night. 

Reynal recognized him the moment the Indians brought 
him in. He had run away from his master about a year 
before and joined the party of M. Richard, who was then 
leaving the frontier for the mountains. He had lived with 
Richard ever since, until in the end of May he, with Rey- 
nal and several other men, went out in search of some stray 
horses, when he got separated from the rest in a storrn, and 
had never been heard of up to this time. Knowing his 
inexperience and helplessness, no one dreamed that he could 
still be living. The Indians had found him lying exhausted 
on the ground. 

As he sat there with the Indians gazing silently on him, 
his haggard face and glazed eye were disgusting to look 
upon. Deslauriers made him a bowl of gruel, but he suf- 
fered it to remain untasted before him. At length he lan- 
guidly raised the spoon to his lips ; again he did so, and again ; 
and then his appetite seemed suddenly inflamed into madness. 



Scenes at the Camp 177 

for he seized the bowl, swallowed all Its contents in a few 
seconds, and eagerly demanded meat. This we refused, 
telling him to w^ait until morning, but he begged so eagerly 
that we gave him a small piece, which he devoured, tearing 
it like a dog. He said he must have more. We told him 
that his life was' in danger if he ate so immoderately at first. 
He assented, and said he knew he was a fool to do so, but 
he must have meat. This we absolutely refused, to the 
great indignation of the senseless squaws, who, when we 
were not watching him, would slyly bring dried meat and 
pommes blanches^ and place them on the ground by his 
side. Still this was not enough for him. When It grew 
dark he contrived to creep away between the legs of the 
horses and crawi over to the Indian village, about a furlong 
down the stream. Here he fed to his heart's content, and 
was brought back again In the morning, when Jean Gras, 
the trapper, put him on horseback and carried him to the 
fort. He managed to survive the effects of his Insane greedi- 
ness, and though slightly deranged when we left this part 
of the country, he was otherwise In tolerable health, and 
expressed his firm conviction that nothing could ever kill him. 
When the sun was yet an hour high. It w^as a gay scene 
In the village. The warriors stalked sedately among the 
lodges or along the margin of the streams, or walked out to 
visit the bands of horses that were feeding over the prairie. 
Half the village population deserted the close and heated 
lodges and betook themselves to the water; and here you 
might see boys and girls and young squaws splashing, swim- 
ming, and diving beneath the afternoon sun, with merry 
laughter and screaming. But when the sun was just resting 
above the broken peaks, and the purple mountains threw 
their prolonged shadows for miles over the prairie; when our 
grim old tree, lighted by the horizontal rays, assumed an 

iPomme blanche, white apple, a root used by the Indians, in dry and pOwdered 
form, to mix with soup. See Elliott Coues, History of the Lewis and Clark Expe- 
dition, III, 1173. 



178 The Oregon Trail 

aspect of peaceful repose such as one loves after scenes of 
tumult and excitement; and when the whole landscape of 
swelling plains and scattered groves was softened into a tran- 
quil beauty, then our encampment presented a striking spec- 
tacle. Could Salvator Rosa^ have transferred it to his can- 
vas, it would have added new renown to his pencil. Savage 
figures surrounded our tent, with quivers at their backs and 
guns, lances, or tomahawks in their hands. Some sat on 
horseback, motionless as equestrian statues, their arms crossed 
on their breasts, their eyes fixed in a steady unwavering gaze 
upon us. Some stood erect, wrapped from head to foot in 
their long white robes of buffalo hide. Some sat together, 
on the grass, holding their shaggy horses by a rope, with 
their broad, dark busts exposed to view as they suffered their 
robes to fall from their shoulders. Others again stood care- 
lessly among the throng, with nothing to conceal the match- 
less symmetry of their forms ; and I do not exaggerate when 
I say that only on the prairie and in the Vatican^ have I 
seen such faultless models of the human figure. See that 
warrior standing by the tree, towering six feet and a half 
in stature. Your eyes may trace the whole of his graceful 
and majestic height, and discover no defect or blemish. With 
his free and noble attitude, w^ith the bow in his hand and 
the quiver at his back, he might seem, but for his face, the 
Pythian Apollo^ himself. Such a figure rose before the 
imagination of West,* when on first seeing the Belvidere in 
the Vatican, he exclaimed, "By God, a Mohawk!" 

When the sky darkened and the stars began to appear; 
when the prairie was involved in gloom and the horses were 
driven in and secured around the camp, the crowd began 

'Italian painter, b. 1615, d. 1673, 

2The residence of the popes at Rome, famous also or its art treasures. 

'The Pythian or Belvidere Apollo, representing Apollo fighting with the 
Pythian dragon. 

^Benjamin West, American painter, b. 1738, d. 1820. 



Scenes at the Camp 179 

to melt away. Fires gleamed around, duskily revealing the 
rough trappers and the graceful Indians. One of the fami- 
lies near us would always be gathered about a bright blaze, 
that displayed the shadowy dimensions of their lodge, and 
sent its lights far up among the masses of foliage above, 
gilding the dead and ragged branches. Withered witchlike 
hags flitted around the blaze, and here for hour after hour 
sat a circle of children and young girls, laughing and talk- 
ing, their round merry faces glowing in the ruddy light. 
We could hear the monotonous notes of the drum from the 
Indian village, with the chant of the war song, deadened 
in the distance, and the long chorus of quavering yells, 
where the war dance was going on in the largest lodge. For 
several nights, too, we could hear wild and mournful cries, 
rising and dying away like the melancholy voice of a wolf. 
They came from the sisters and female relatives of Mahto- 
Tatonka, who were gashing their limbs with knives and 
bewailing the death of Henry Chatillon's squaw. The hour 
would grow late before all retired to rest in the camp. Then 
the embers of the fires would be glowing dimly, the men 
would be stretched in their blankets on the ground, and 
nothing could be heard but the restless motions of the 
crowded horses. 

I recall these scenes with a mixed feeling of pleasure and 
pain. At this time I was so reduced by illness that I could 
seldom walk without reeling like a drunken man, and when 
I rose from my seat upon the ground the landscape suddenly 
grew dim before my eyes, the trees and lodges seemed to 
sway to and fro, and the prairie to rise and fall like the 
swells of the ocean. Such a state of things is by no means 
enviable anywhere. In a country where a man's life may at 
any moment depend on the strength of his arm, or it may be 
on the activity of his legs, it is more particularly inconvenient. 
Medical assistance, of course, there was none; neither had I 
the means of pursuing a system of diet; and sleeping on a 



180 The Oregon Trail 

damp ground, with an occasional drenching from a shower, 
would hardly be recommended as beneficial. I sometimes 
suffered the extremity of languor and exhaustion, and though 
at the time I felt no apprehensions of the final result, I have 
since learned that my situation was a critical one. 

Besides other formidable inconveniences^ I owe it in a 
great measure to the remote eifects of that unlucky disorder 
that from deficient eyesight I am compelled to employ the 
pen of another in taking down this narrative from my lips;^ 
and I have learned very effectually that a violent attack of 
dysentery on the prairie is a thing too serious for a joke. I 
tried repose and a very sparing diet. For a long time, with 
exemplary patience, I lounged about the camp, or at the 
utmost staggered over to the Indian village and walked, 
faint and dizzy, among the lodges. It would not do, and I 
bethought me of starvation. During five days I sustained 
life on one small biscuit a day. At the end of that time I 
was weaker than before, but the disorder seemed shaken In 
Its stronghold, and very gradually I began to resume a less 
rigid diet. No sooner had I done so than the same detested 
symptoms revisited me; my old enemy resumed his perti- 
nacious assaults, yet not with his former violence or con- 
stancy; and though before I regained any fair portion of 
my ordinary strength weeks had elapsed, and months passed 
before the disorder left me, yet thanks to old habits of 
activity and a merciful Providence, I was able to sustain 
myself against It. 

I used to lie languid and dreamy before our tent and 
muse on the past and the future, and when most overcome 
with lassitude, my eyes turned always toward the distant 
Black Hills. There Is a spirit of energy and vigor in moun- 
tains, and they impart It to all who approach their presence. 
At that time I did not know how many dark superstitions 
and gloomy legends are associated with those mountains In 

*See Introduction, p. 13. 



Scenes at the Camp 181 

the minds of the Indians, but I felt an eager desire to pene- 
trate their hidden recesses, to explore the awful chasms and 
precipices, the black torrents, the silent forests, that I fan- 
cied were concealed there. 



CHAPTER XII 

ILL LUCK 

A Canadian came from Fort Laramie, and brought a 
curious piece of intelligence. A trapper, fresh from the 
mountains, had become enamored of a Missouri damsel 
belonging to a family who^ with other emigrants, had been 
for some days encamped In the neighborhood of the fort. 
If bravery be the most potent charm to win the favor of the 
fair, then no wooer could be more Irresistible than a Rocky 
Mountain trapper. In the present Instance, the suit was not 
urged In vain. The lovers concerted a scheme, which thev 
proceeded to carry into effect w^Ith all possible dispatch. 
The emigrant party left the fort, and on the next succeed- 
ing night but one encamped as usual, and placed a guard. 
A little after midnight the enamored trapper drew near, 
mounted on a strong horse and leading another by the bridle. 
Fastening both animals to a tree, he stealthily moved toward 
the wagons, as If he were approaching a band of buffalo. 
Eluding the vigilance of the guard, who was probably half 
asleep, he met his mistress by appointment at the outskirts 
of the camp, mounted her on his spare horse, and made oH 
w^Ith her through the darkness. The sequel of the adventure 
did not reach our ears, and we never learned how the Impru- 
dent fair one liked an Indian lodge for a dwelling, and a 
reckless trapper for a bridegroom. 

At length The Whirlwind and his warriors determined 
to move. They had resolved after all their preparations not 
to go to the rendezvous at La Bonte's camp, but to pass 
through the Black Hills and spend a few weeks In hunting 
the buffalo on the other side, until they had killed enough 

18:2 



Ill Luck 183 

to furnish them with a stock of provisions and with hides to 
make their lodges for the next season. This done, they 
were to send out a small independent war party against 
the enemy. Their final determination left us in some em- 
barrassment. Should we go to La Bonte's camp, it was 
not impossible that the other villages would prove as vacil- 
lating and indecisive as The Whirlwind's, and that no 
assembly whatever w^ould take place. Our old companion 
Reynal had conceived a liking for us, or rather for our bis- 
cuit and coffee, and for the occasional small presents which 
we made him. He was very anxious that w^e should go 
with the village which he himself intended to accompany. 
He declared that he was certain that no Indians would meet 
at the rendezvous, and said moreover that it would be easy 
to convey our cart and baggage through the Black Hills. 
In saying this, he told as usual an egregious falsehood. 
Neither he nor any white man with us had ever seen the 
difficult and obscure defiles through which the Indians in- 
tended to make their way. I passed them afterw^ard, and 
had much ado to force my distressed horse along the narrow 
ravines, and through chasms where daylight could scarcely 
penetrate. Our cart might as easily have been conveyed 
over the summit of Pike's Peak. Anticipating the difficul- 
ties and uncertainties of an attempt to visit the rendezvous, 
we recalled the old proverb about '*A bird in the hand," 
and decided to follow the village. 

, Both camps, the Indians' and our own, broke up on the 
morning of the first of July. I was so weak that the aid 
of a potent auxiliary, a spoonful of whisky swallowed at 
short intervals, alone enabled me to sit my hardy little mare 
Pauline through the short journey of that day. For half a 
mile before us and half a mile behind, the prairie was cov- 
ered far and wide with the moving throng of savages. The 
barren, broken plain stretched away to the right and left, 
'ind far in front rose the gloomy precipitous ridge of the 



184 The Oregon Trail 

Black Hills. We pushed forward to the head of the scat- 
cered column, passing the burdened travaux, the heavily 
laden pack horses, the gaunt old women on foot, the gay 
young squaws on horseback, the restless children running 
among the crowd, old men striding along In their white buf- 
falo robes, and groups of young warriors mounted on their 
best horses. Henry Chatillon, looking backward over the 
distant prairie, exclaimed suddenly that a horseman was 
approaching, and in truth we could just discern a small black 
speck slowly moving over the face of a distant swell, like 
a fly creeping on a wall. It rapidly grew larger as it 
approached. 

"White man, I b'lieve," said Henry; 'look how he ride! 
Indian never ride that way. Yes; he got rifle on the saddle 
before him." 

The horseman disappeared in a hollow of the prairie, 
but we soon saw him again, and as he came riding at a 
gallop toward us through the crowd of Indians, his long 
hair streaming in the wind behind him, we recognized the 
ruddy face and old buckskin frock of Jean Gras, the trapper. 
He was just arrived from Fort Laramie, where he had been 
on a visit, and said he had a message for us. A trader 
named Bisonette, one of Henry's friends, was lately come 
from the settlements, and intended to go with a party of 
men to La Bonte's camp, where, as Jean Gras assured us, 
ten or tw^elve villages of Indians would certainly assemble. 
Bisonette desired that we would cross over and meet him 
there, and promised that his men should protect our horses 
and baggage while we went among the Indians. Shaw and 
I stopped our horses and held a council, and In an evil hour 
resolved to go. 

For the rest of that day's journey our course and that of 
the Indians was the same. In less than an hour we came 
to where the high barren prairie terminated, sinking down 
abruptly in steep descent; and standing oq these heights, 



Ill Luck 18S 

we saw below us a great level meadow. Laramie Creek 
bounded it on the left, sweeping along in the shadow of the 
declivities, and passing with its shallow and rapid current 
just below us. We sat on horseback, w^aitmg and looking 
on, while the whole savage array went pouring past us, 
hurrying down the descent and spreading themselves over 
the meadow below. In a few moments the plain was sw^arm- 
ing with the moving multitude, some just visible, like specks 
in the distance, others still passing on, pressing down, and 
fording the stream wath bustle and confusion. On the edge 
of the heights sat half a dozen of the elder warriors, gravely 
smoking and looking down with unmoved faces on the wild 
and striking spectacle. 

Up went the lodges in a circle on the margin of the 
stream. For the sake of quiet we pitched our tent among 
some trees at half a mile's distance. In the afternoon w^e 
were in the village. The day was a glorious one, and the 
whole camp seemed lively and animated in sympathy. 
Groups of children and young girls were laughing gayly on 
the outside of the lodges. The shields, the lances, and the 
bows w^ere removed from the tall tripods on which they 
usually hung before the dwellings of their owners. The 
warriors were mounting their horses, and one by one riding 
away over the prairie toward the neighboring hills. 

Shaw and I sat on the grass near the lodge of Reynal. 
An old woman, with true Indian hospitality, brought a bowl 
of boiled venison and placed it before us. We amused our- 
selves with watching half a dozen young squaws who were 
playing together and chasing each other in and out of one 
of the lodges. Suddenly the wild yell of the war-whoop 
came pealing from the hills. A crowd of horsemen appeared, 
rushing down their sides and riding at full speed toward the 
village, each warrior's long hair flying behind him in the 
wind like a ship's streamer. As they approached, the con- 
fused throng assumed a regular order, and entering tw^o by 



186 The Oregon Trail 

two, they circled round the area at full gallop, each warrior 
singing his war song as he rode. Some of their dresses were 
splendid. They wore superb crests of feathers and close 
tunics of antelope skins, fringed with the scalp-locks of their 
enemies ; their shields too were often fluttering with the war 
eagle's feathers. All had bows and arrows at their backs ; 
some carried long lances, and a few were armed with guns. 
The White Shield, their partisan, rode in gorgeous attire 
at their head, mounted on a black-and-white horse. ]\Iahto- 
Tatonka and his brothers took no part in this parade, for 
they were in mourning for their sister, and were all sitting 
in their lodges, their bodies bedaubed from head to foot 
with white clay, and a lock of hair cut from each of their 
foreheads. 

The w^arriors circled three times round the village ; and 
as each distinguished champion passed, the old women would 
scream out his name in honor of his bravery, and to incite 
the emulation of the younger warriors. Little urchins, not 
two j^ears old, followed the warlike pageant with glittering 
eyes, and looked with eager wonder and admiration at those 
whose honors were proclaimed by the public voice of the 
village. Thus early is the lesson of war instilled into the 
mind of an Indian, and such are the stimulants which excite 
his thirst for martial renown. 

The procession rode out of the village as it had entered 
it, and in half an hour all the warriors had returned again, 
dropping quietly in, singly or in parties of two or three. 

As the sun rose next morning we looked across the 
meadow, and could see the lodges leveled and the Indians 
gathering together in preparation to leave the camp. Their 
course lay to the westward. We turned toward the north 
with our three men, the four trappers following us, with 
the Indian family of Moran. We traveled until night. I 
suffered not a little from pain and weakness. We encamped 
among some trees by the side of a little brook, and here 



Ill Luck 187 

during the whole of the next day we lay waiting for Bison- 
ette, but no Bisonette appeared. Here also two of our trap- 
per friends left us and set out for the Rocky Mountains. 
On the second morning, despairing of Bisonette's arrival, 
we resumed our journey, traversing a forlorn and dreary 
monotony of sun-scorched plains, where no living thing 
appeared save here and there an antelope flying before us 
like the wind. When noon carne we saw an unwonted and 
most welcome sight; a rich and luxuriant growth of trees, 
marking the course of a little stream called Horseshoe Creek. 
We turned gladly toward it. There were lofty and spread- 
ing trees, standing widely asunder, and supporting a thick 
canopy of leaves above a surface of rich, tall grass. The 
stream ran swiftly, as clear as crystal, through the bosom of 
the wood, sparkling over its bed of white sand and darken- 
ing again as it entered a deep cavern of leaves and boughs. 
I was thoroughly exhausted, and flung myself on the ground, 
scarcely able to move. All that afternoon I lay in the shade 
by the side of the stream, and those bright woods and spark- 
ling waters are associated in my mind with recollections of 
lassitude and utter prostration. When night came I sat 
down by the fire, longing, with an intensity of which at this 
moment I can hardly conceive, for some powerful stimulant. 
In the morning as glorious a sun rose upon us as ever 
animated that desolate wilderness. We advanced and soon 
were surrounded by tall bare hills, overspread from top to 
bottom with prickly-pears and other cacti, that seemed like 
clinging reptiles. A plain, flat and hard, and with scarcely 
the vestige of grass, lay before us, and a line of tall mis- 
shapen trees bounded the onward view. There was no sight 
or sound of man or beast or any living thing, although 
behind those trees was the long-looked-for place of ren- 
dezvous, where we fondly hoped to have found the Indians 
congregated by thousands. We looked and listened anx- 
iously. We pushed forward with our best speed, and forced 



188 The Oregon Trail 

our horses through the trees. There were copses of some 
extent beyond, with a scanty stream creeping through their 
midst; and as we pressed through the yielding branches, deer 
sprang up to the right and left. At length we caught a 
glimpse of the prairie beyond. Soon we emerged upon it, 
and saw, not a plain covered with encampments and swarm- 
ing with life, but a vast unbroken desert stretching away 
before us league upon league, without a bush or a tree or 
anything that had life. We drew rein and gave to the winds 
our sentiments concerning the whole aboriginal race of Amer- 
ica. Our journey was in vain and much worse than in vain. 
For myself, I was vexed and disappointed beyond measure ; 
as I well knew that a slight aggravation of my disorder 
would render this false step irrevocable, and make it quite 
impossible to accomplish effectually the design which had 
led me an arduous journey of between three and four thou- 
sand miles. To fortify myself as well as I could against 
such a contingency, I resolved that I would not under any 
circumstances attempt to leave the country until my object 
was completely gained. 

And where were the Indians? They were assembled in 
great numbers at a spot about twenty miles distant, and 
there at that very moment they were engaged in their war- 
like ceremonies. The scarcity of buffalo in the vicinity of 
La Bonte's camp, which would render their supply of pro- 
visions scanty and precarious, had probably prevented them 
from assembling there ; but of all this we knew nothing until 
some weeks after. 

Shaw lashed his horse and galloped forward. I, though 
much more vexed than he, was not strong enough to adopt 
this convenient vent to my feelings; so I followed at a quiet 
pace, but in no quiet mood. We rode up to a solitary old 
tree, ^vhich seemed the only place fit for encampment. Half 
its branches w^ere dead, and the rest were so scantily fur- 
'^ish'^d with leaves that they cast but a meager and wretched 



Ill Luck 189 

shade, and the old twisted trunk alone furnished sufficient 
protection from the sun. We threw down our saddles in the 
strip of shadow that It cast, and sat down upon them. In 
silent Indignation we remained smoking for an hour or more, 
shifting our saddles with the shifting shadow, for the sun 
was Intolerably hot. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

HUNTING INDIANS 

At last we had reached La Bonte's camp, toward which 
our eyes had turned so long. Of all weary hours, those that 
passed between noon and sunset of the day when we arrived 
there may bear away the palm of exquisite discomfort. I 
lay under the tree reflecting on what course to pursue, 
watching the shadows which seemed never to move and the 
sun which remained fixed in the sky, and hoping every 
moment to see the men and horses of Bisonette emerging 
from the woods. Shaw and Henry had ridden out on a 
scouting expedition, and did not return until the sun w^as 
setting. There was nothing very cheering in their faces nor 
in the news they brought. 

*'We have been ten miles from here," said Shaw. "We 
climbed the highest butte we could find, and could not see 
a buffalo or Indian ; nothing but prairie for twenty miles 
around us." 

Henry's horse was quite disabled by clambering up and 
down the sides of ravines, and Shaw's was severely fatigued. 

After supper that evening, as we sat around the fire, I 
proposed to Shaw to wait one day longer in hopes of 
Bisonette's arrival, and if he should not come to send Des- 
lauriers with the cart and baggage back to Fort Laramie, 
while w^e ourselves followed The Whirlwind's village and 
attempted to overtake it as it passed the mountains. Shaw, 
not having the same motive for hunting Indians that I had, 
was averse to the plan ; I therefore resolved to go alone. 
This design I adopted very unwillingly, for I knew that in 
the present state of my health the attempt would be extremely 

190 



Hunting Indians 191 

unpleasant, and, as I considered, hazardous. I hoped that 
Bisonette would appear in the course of the following day, 
and bring us some information by which to direct our course, 
and enable me to accomplish my purpose by means less 
objectionable. 

The rifle of Henry Chatillon was necessary for the sub- 
sistence of the party in my absence; so I called Raymond, 
and ordered him to prepare to set out with me. Raymond 
rolled his eyes vacanth^ about, but at length, having suc- 
ceeded in grappling with the idea, he withdrew to his bed 
under the cart. He was a heavy-molded fellow, with a 
broad face exactly like an owl's, expressing the most impene- 
trable stupidity and entire self-confidence. As for his good 
qualities, he had a sort of stubborn fidelity, an insensibility 
to danger, and a kind of instinct or sagacity which some- 
times led him right where better heads than his were at 
a loss. Besides this, he knew very well how to handle a 
rifle and picket a horse. 

Through the following day the sun glared down upon 
us with a pitiless, penetrating heat. The distant blue prairie 
seemed quivering under it. The lodge of our Indian asso- 
ciates was baking in the rays, and our rifles, as they leaned 
against the tree, were too hot for the touch. There was a 
dead silence through our camp and all around it, unbroken 
except by the hum of gnats and mosquitoes. The men, 
resting their foreheads on their arms, were sleeping under 
the cart. The Indians kept close within their lodge, except 
the newly married pair, who were seated together under an 
awning of buffalo robes, and the old conjurer, who, with 
his hard, emaciated face and gaunt ribs, was perched aloft 
like a turkey-buzzard among the dead branches of an old 
tree, constantly on the lookout for enemies. He would have 
made a capital shot. A rifle bullet, skillfully planted, would 
have brought him tumbling to the ground. Surely, I 
thought, there could be no more harm in shooting such a 



192 The Oregon Trail 

hideous old villain, to see how ugly he would look when 
he was dead, than in shooting the detestable vulture which 
he resembled. We dined, and then Shaw saddled his horse. 

"I will ride back," said he, '*to Horseshoe Creek, and 
see if Bisonette is there." 

"I would go with you," I answered, "but I must reserve 
all the strength I have." 

The afternoon dragged away at last. I occupied myself 
in cleaning my rifle and pistols, and making other prepara- 
tions for the journey. After supper, Henry Chatillon and 
I lay by the fire, discussing the properties of that admirable 
weapon, the rifle, in the use of which he could fairly outrival 
Leatherstocking^ himself. 

It was late before I wrapped myself in my blanket and 
lay down for the night, with my head on my saddle. Shaw 
had not returned, but this gave us no uneasiness, for we pre- 
sumed that he had fallen in w^ith Bisonette, and was spend- 
ing the night with him. For a day or two past I had gained 
in strength and health, but about midnight an attack of pain 
awoke me, and for some hours I felt no inclination to sleep. 
The moon was quivering on the broad breast of the Platte; 
nothing could be heard except those low inexplicable sounds, 
like w^hisperings and footsteps, which no one who has spent 
the night alone amid deserts and forests will be at a loss to 
urrderstand. As I was falling asleep, a familiar voice, shout- • 
ing from the distance, aw^oke me again. A rapid step 
approached the camp, and Shaw on foot, with his gun in his 
hand, hastily entered. 

''Where's your horse?" said I, raising myself on my 
elbow. 

"Lost!" said Shaw. "Where's Deslauriers?" 

"There," I replied, pointing to a confused mass of blan- 
kets and buffalo robes. 

^Pioneer and Indian fighter, the central character in James Fenimore Cooper's 
Leather stockinc Tales. 



Hunting Indians 193 

Shaw touched them with the butt of his gun, and up 
sprang our faithful Canadian. 

"Come, Deslauriers; stir up the fire, and get me some- 
thing to eat." 

''Where's Bisonette?" asked I. 

"The Lord knows; there's nobody at Horseshoe Creek." 

Shaw had gone back to the spot where we had encamped 
two days before, and finding nothing there but the ashes of 
our fires, he had tied his horse to the tree while he bathed in 
the stream. Something startled his horse, who broke loose, 
and for two hours Shaw tried in vain to catch him. Sunset 
approached, and it was twelve miles to camp. So he aban- 
doned the attem_pt, and set out on foot to join us. The 
greater part of his perilous and solitary work was performed 
in darkness. His moccasins were worn to tatters and his 
feet severely lacerated. He sat down to eat, however, with 
the usual equanimity of his temper not at all disturbed by 
his misfortune, and my last recollection before falling asleep 
was of Shaw, seated cross-legged before the fire, smoking his 
pipe. The horse, I may as well mention here, was found 
the next morning by Henry Chatillon. 

When I awoke again there was a fresh damp smell In 
the air, a gray twilight Involved the prairie, and above its 
eastern verge was a streak of cold red sky. I called to the 
men, and In a moment a fire was blazing brightly In the 
dim morning light, and breakfast was getting ready. We 
sat down together on the grass, to the last civilized meal 
which Raymond and I were destined to enjoy for some time. 

"Now, bring in the horses." 

My little mare Pauline was soon standing by the fire. 
She was a fleet, hardy, and gentle animal, christened after 
Paul Dorlon, from whom I had procured her In exchange 
for Pontlac. She did not look as If equipped for a morning 
pleasure ride. In front of the black, high-bowed mountain 
saddle, holsters, with heavy pistols, were fastened. A pair 



194 The Oregon Trail 

of saddle bags, a blanket tightly rolled, a small parcel of 
Indian presents tied up in a buffalo skin, a leather bag of flour, 
and a smaller one of tea were all secured behind, and a long 
trail-rope was ^^•ound round her neck. RaymiOnd had a 
strong black mule, equipped in a similar manner. We 
crammed our powder-horns to the throat, and mounted. 

"I will meet you at Fort Laramie on the first of August," 
said I to Shaw. 

"That is," replied he, "if we don't meet before that. I 
think I shall follow after you in a day or two." 

This in fact he attempted, and he would have succeeded 
if he had not encountered obstacles against which his reso- 
lute spirit was of no avail. Two days after I left him he 
sent Deslauriers to the fort with the cart and baggage, and 
set out for the mountains with Henry Chatillon ; but a tre- ' 
mendous thunderstorm had deluged the prairie, and nearly 
obliterated not only our trail but that of the Indians them- 
selves. They followed along the base of the mountains, at 
a loss in which direction to go. They encamped there, and 
in the morning Shaw found himself poisoned by ivy in such 
a manner that it was Impossible for him to travel. So they 
turned back reluctantly toward Fort Laramie. Shaw's 
limbs were swollen to double their usual size, and he rode 
in great pain. They encamped again within twenty miles 
of the fort, and reached it early on the following morning. 
Shaw lay seriously ill for a week, and remained at the fort 
till I rejoined him some time after. 

To return to my own story. We shook hands with our 
friends, rode out upon the prairie, and clambering the sandy 
hollows that were channeled in the sides of the hills, gained 
the high plains above. If a curse had been pronounced 
upon the land, it could not have worn an aspect of more 
dreary and forlorn barrenness. There were abrupt broken 
hills, deep hollows, and wide plains; but all alike glared 
with an insupportable whiteness under the bnrnip<5 sun. 



Hunting Indians 195 

The countrj^ as if parched by the heat, had cracked into 
innumerable fissures and ravines that not a little impeded 
our progress. Their steep sides were white and raw, and 
along the bottom we several times discovered the broad tracks 
of the terrific grizzly bear, nowhere more abundant than in 
this region. The ridges of the hills w^ere hard as rock, and 
strewn with pebbles of flint and coarse red jasper; looking 
from them, there was nothing to relieve the desert uniformity 
of the prospect, save here and there a pine-tree clinging at 
the edge of a ravine, and stretching over its rough, shaggy 
arms. Under the scorching heat these melancholy trees dif- 
fused their peculiar resinous odor through the sultry air. 
There was something in it, as I approached them, that re- 
called old associations; the pine-clad mountains of New 
England, traversed in days of health and buoyancy, rose like 
a reality before my fancy. In passing that arid waste I was 
goaded wnth a morbid thirst produced by my disorder, and 
I thought with a longing desire on the crystal treasure poured 
in such w^asteful profusion from our thousand hills. Shut- 
ting my eyes, I more than half believed that I heard the deep 
plunging and gurgling of waters in the bowels of the shaded 
rocks. I could see their dark icy glittering far down amid 
the crevices, and the cold drops trickling from the long green 
mosses. 

When noon came, we found a little stream, with a few 
trees and bushes; and here w^e rested for an hour. Then 
we traveled on, guided by the sun, until, just before sunset, 
we reached another stream called Bitter Cottonwood Creek.* 
A thick growth of bushes and old storm-beaten trees grew 
at intervals along its bank. Near the foot of one of the 
trees we flung down our saddles, and hobbling our horses 
turned them loose to feed. The little stream was clear and 
swift, and ran musically on its white sands. Small water 
birds were splashing In the shallows, and filling the air with 

iCottonwood Creek, Wyoming. 



196 The Oregon Trail 

their cries and flutterings. The sun was just sinking among 
gold and crimson clouds behind Mount Laramie.' I well 
remember how I lay upon a log by the margin of the water, 
and watched the restless motions of the little fish in a 
deep still nook below. Strange to say, I seemed to have 
gained strength since the morning, and almost felt a sense 
of returning health. 

We built our fire. Night came, and the wolves began 
to howl. One deep voice commenced, and it was answered 
in awful responses from the hills, the plains, and the woods 
along the stream above and below us. Such sounds need not 
and do not disturb one's sleep upon the prairie. We pick- 
eted the mare and the mule close at our feet, and did not 
awake until daylight. Then we turned them loose, still 
hobbled, to feed for an hour before starting. ' We were get- 
ting ready for our morning's meal, when Raymond saw an 
antelope at half a mile's distance, and said he would go and 
shoot it. 

"Your business," said I, "is to look after the animals. 
I am too weak to do much if anything happens to them, 
and you must keep within sight of the camp." 

Raymond promised, and set out with his rifle in his hand. 
The animals had passed across the stream, and were feed- 
ing among the long grass on the other side, much tormented 
by the attacks of the numerous large green-headed flies. As 
I watched them, I saw them go down into a hollow, and as 
several minutes elapsed without their reappearing, I waded 
through the stream to look after them. To my vexation and 
alarm I discovered them at a great distance, galloping away 
at full speed, Pauline in advance, with her hobbles broken 
and the mule, still fettered, following with awkward leaps. 
I fired my rifle and shouted to recall Raymond. In a moment 
he came running through the stream, with a red handker- 

iLaramie Peak, Wyoming, the first mountain landmark seen by emigrants on 
the Oregon trail. 



Hunting Indians 197 

chief bound round his head. I pointed to the fugitives, and 
ordered him to pursue them. Muttering a ^^Sacre!" between 
his teeth, he set out at full speed, still swinging his rifle in his 
hand. I walked up to the top of a hill, and looking away 
over the prairie, could just distinguish the runaways, still at 
full gallop. Returning to the fire, I sat down at the foot 
of a tree. Wearily and anxiously hour after hour passed 
awa)^ The old loose bark dangling from the trunk behind 
me flapped to and fro in the wind, and the mosquitoes kept 
up their incessant drowsy humming ; but other than this, 
there was no sight nor sound of life throughout the burning 
landscape. The sun rose higher and higher, until the shadows 
fell almost perpendicularly, and I knew that it must be noon. 
It seemed scarcely possible that the animals could be recov- 
ered. If they w^re not, my situation was one of serious 
difficulty. Shaw, when I left him, had decided to •jnove 
that morning, but w^hither he had not determined. To look 
for him would be a vain attempt. Fort Laramie was forty 
miles distant, and I could not walk a mile without great 
effort. Not then having learned the sound philosophy of 
yielding to disproportionate obstacles, I resolved to continue 
in any event the pursuit of the Indians. Only one plan 
occurred to me; this was to send Raj^mond to the fort with 
an order for more horses, while I remained on the spot, 
awaiting his return, which might take place within three 
daj^s. But the adoption of this resolution did not wholly 
allay my anxiety, for it involved both uncertainty and danger. 
To remain stationary and alone for three days, in a country 
full of dangerous Indians, was not the most flattering of 
prospects ; and protracted as my Indian hunt must be by such 
delay, it was not eas)^ to foretell its ultimate result. Revolv- 
ing these matters, I grew hungry; and as our stock of pro- 
visions, except four or five pounds of flour, was by this time 
exhausted, I left the camp to see what game I could find. 
Nothing could be seen except four or five large curlew, which, 



198 The Oregon Trail 

with their loud screaming, were v/heeling over mj^ head and 
now and then alighting upon the prairie. I shot two of them, 
and was about returning, when a startling sight caught my 
eye. A small, dark object, like a human head, suddenly 
appeared, and vanished among the thick bushes along the 
stream below. In that country every stranger Is a suspected 
enemy. Instinctively I threw forward the muzzle of my 
rifle. In a moment the bushes were violently shaken, two 
heads, but not human heads, protruded, and to my great joy 
I recognized the downcast, disconsolate countenance of the 
black mule and the yellow visage of Pauline, Raj^mond came 
upon the mule, pale and haggard, complaining of a fiery pain 
in his chest. I took charge of the animals while he kneeled 
down by the side of the stream to drink. He had kept the 
runaways in sight as far as the Side Fork of Laramie Creek, 
a distance of m^ore than ten miiles; and here with great diffi- 
culty he had succeeded In catching them. I saw that he was 
unarmed, and asked him what he had done with his rifle. It 
had incumbered him in his pursuit, and he had dropped it on 
•the prairie, thinking that he could find it on his return ; but 
in this he had failed. The loss might prove a very formidable 
one. I was too much rejoiced however at the recovery of the 
animals to think much about it ; and having made some tea 
for Raymond in a tin vessel which we had brought with us, I 
told him that I would give him two hours for resting before 
we set out again. He had eaten nothing that day ; but having 
no appetite, he lay down immediately to sleep. I picketed the 
animals among the richest grass that I could find, and made 
fires of green wood to protect them from the flies; then sitting 
down again by the tree, I watched the slow movements of the 
sun, begrudging every moment that passed. 

The time I had mentioned expired, and I awoke Ray- 
mond. We saddled and set out again, but first we went In 
search of the lost rifle, and in the course of an hour Raymond 
was fortunate enough to find It. Then we turned westward, 



Hunting Indians 199 

and moved over the hills and hollows at a slow pace toward 
the Black Hills. The heat no longer tormented us, for a 
cloud w^as before the sun. Yet that dav shall never be 
marked with white in my calendar. The air began to grow 
fresh and cool, the distant mountains frowned more gloomih% 
there w^as a low muttering of thunder, and dense black 
masses of cloud rose heavily behind the broken peaks. At 
first they were gayly fringed with silver by the afternoon 
sun, but soon the thick blackness overspread the whole sky, 
and the desert around us was wrapped in deep gloom. I 
scarcely heeded it at the time, but now I cannot but feel 
that there was an awful sublimity in the hoarse murmuring 
of the thunder, in the somber shadows that involved the 
mountains and the plain. The storm broke. It came upon 
us with a zigzag blinding flash, with a terrific crash of thun- 
der, and with a hurricane that howled over the prairie, dash- 
ing floods of water against us. Raymond looked round and 
cursed the merciless elements. There seemed no shelter near, 
but we discerned at length a deep ravine gashed in the level 
prairie, and saw half way down its side an old pine tree, 
whose rough horizontal boughs formed a sort of penthouse 
against the tempest. We found a practicable passage, and 
hastily descending, fastened our animals to some large loose 
stones at the bottom; then climbing up, we drew our blankets 
over our heads, and seated ourselves close beneath the old 
tree. Perhaps I was no competent judge of time, but it 
seemed to me that we were sitting there a full hour, while 
around us poured a deluge of rain, through w^hich the rocks 
on the opposite side of the gulf were barely visible. The 
first burst of the tempest soon subsided, but the rain poured 
steadily. At length Raymond grew impatient, and scrambling 
out of the ravine, he gained the level prairie above. 

"What does the weather look like?" asked I, from my 
seat under the tree. 



200 The Oregon Trail 

"It looks bad," he answered ; "dark all around," and again 
he descended and sat down by my side. Some ten minutes 
elapsed. 

"Go up again," said I, "and take another look;" and he 
clambered^ up the precipice. "Well, how is it?" 

"Just the same, only I see one little bright spot over the 
top of the mountain." 

The rain by this time had begun to abate ; and going down 
to the bottom of the ravine, We loosened the animals, who 
were standing up to their knees in water. Leading them up 
the rocky throat of the ravine, we reached the plane above. 
"Am I," I thought to mj^self, "the same man who a few 
months since was seated, a quiet student of belles-lettresy in a 
cushioned arm-chair by a sea-coal fire ?" 

All around us was obscurity; but the bright spot above the 
mountain-tops grew wider and ruddier, until at length the 
clouds drew apart, and a flood of sunbeams poured down from 
heaven, streaming along the precipices, and involving them in 
a thin blue haze as soft and lovely as that which wraps the 
Apennines on an evening in spring. Rapidly the clouds were 
broken and scattered, like routed legions of evil spirits. The 
:)lain lay basking in sunbeams around us ; a rainbow arched the 
desert from north to south, and far in front a line of woods 
seemed inviting us to refreshmient and repose. When we 
reached them, they were glistening with prismatic dewdrops, 
and enlivened by the song and flutterings of a hundred birds. 
Strange winged insects, benumbed by the rain, were clinging 
to the leaves and the bark of the trees. 

Raymond kindled a fire with great difficulty. The ani- 
mals turned eagerly to feed on the soft rich grass, while I, 
wrapping myself in my blanket, lay down and gazed on the 
evening landscape. The mountains, whose stern' features 
had lowered upon us with so gloomy and awful a frown, 
now seemed lighted up with a serene, benignant smile, and 
the green waving undulations of the plain were gladdened 



Hunting Indians 201 

with the rich sunshine. Wet, ill, and wearied as I was, my 
spirit grew lighter at the view, and I drew from it an augury 
of good for my future prospects. 

When morning came, Raymond awoke, coughing vio- 
lently, though I had apparently received no injury. We 
mounted, crossed the little stream, pushed through the trees, 
and began our journey over the plain beyond. And now, as 
•,ve rode slowly along, we looked anxiously on every hand for 
traces of the Indians, not doubting that the village had 
passed somew^here in that vicinity; but the scanty shriveled 
grass was not m.ore than three or four inches high, and the 
ground w^as of such unyielding hardness that a host might 
have marched over it and left scarcely a trace of its passage. 
Up hill and down hill, and clambering through ravines, we 
continued our journey. As w^e were skirting the foot of a 
hill I saw Raymond, who was some rods in advance, suddenly 
jerking the reins of his mule. Sliding from his seat, and run- 
ning in a crouching posture up a hollow, he disappeared ; and 
then in an instant I heard a sharp quick crack of his rifle. A 
wounded antelope came running on three legs over the hill. 
I lashed Pauline and made after him. My fleet little mare 
soon brought me by his side, and after leaping and bounding 
for a few moments in vain, he stood still, as if despairing of 
escape. His glistening eyes turned up toward my face w^ith 
so piteous a look that it was with feelings of infinite com- 
punction that I shot him through the head with a pistol. 
Raymond skinned and cut him up, and we hung the fore- 
quarters to our saddles, much rejoiced that our exhausted 
stock of provisions was renewed in such good time. 

Gaining the top of the hill, w^e could see along the cloudy 
verge of the prairie before us lines of trees and shadow)'' 
groves that marked the course of Laramie Creek. Some time 
before noon we reached its banks and began anxiously to 
search them for footprints of the Indians. We followed the 
stream for several miles, now on the shore and now wading 



202 The Oregon Trail 

in the water, scrutinizing every sand-bar and every muddy 
bank. So long was the search that we began to fear that we 
had left the trail undiscovered behind us. At length I heard 
Raymond shouting, and saw him jump from his mule to 
examine some object under the shelving bank. I rode up to 
his side. It was the clear and palpable impression of an 
Indian moccasin. Encouraged by this we continued our 
search, and at last some appearances on a soft surface of earth 
not far from the shore attracted my eye; and going to exam- 
ine them I found half a dozen tracks, some made by men 
and some by children. Just then Raymond observed across 
the stream the mouth of a small branch entering it from the 
south. He forded the water, rode in at the opening, and in 
a moment I heard him shouting again, so I passed over and 
joined him. The little branch had a broad sandy bed, along 
which the water trickled in a scanty stream; and on either 
bank the bushes were so close that the view was completely 
intercepted. I found Raymond stooping over the footprints 
of three or four horses. Proceeding w^e. found those of a 
man, then those of a child, then those of more horses; and 
at last the bushes on each bank w^ere beaten down and 
broken, and the sand plowed up with a multitude of footsteps, 
and scored across with the furrow^s made by the lodge-poles 
that had been dragged through. It was now certain that we 
had found the trail. I pushed through the bushes, and at a 
little distance on the prairie beyond found the ashes of a 
hundred and fifty lodge fires, with bones and pieces of bufFalo 
robes scattered around them, and in some instances the pick- 
ets to which horses had been secured still standing in the 
ground. Elated by our success we selected a convenient tree, 
and turning the animals loose, prepared to make a meal from 
the fat haunch of our victim. 

Hardship and exposure had thriven with me wonderfully. 
I had gained both health and strength since leaving La Bonte's 
camp. Raymond and I made a hearty meal together in high 



Hunting Indians 203 

spirits, for we rashly presumed that having found one end of 
the trail we should have little difficulty in reaching the other. 
But when the animals were led in we found that our old ill 
luck had not ceased to follow us close. As I was saddling 
Pauline I saw that her eye was as dull as lead, and the hue of 
her yellow coat visibly darkened. I placed my foot in the 
stirrup to mount, when instantly she staggered and fell flat 
on her side. Gaining her feet with an effort she stood by the 
fire with a drooping head. Whether she had been bitten by a 
snake or poisoned by some noxious plant or attacked by a 
sudden disorder, it was hard to say; but at all events her sick- 
ness was sufficiently ill-timed and unfortunate. I succeeded 
in a second attempt to mount her, and with a slow pace we 
moved forward on the trail of the Indians. It led us up a 
hill and over a dreary plain; and here, to our great mortifi- 
cation, the traces almost disappeared, for the ground was hard 
as adamant; and if its flinty surface had ever retained the 
dint of a hoof, the marks had been washed away by the deluge 
of yesterday. An Indian village, In Its disorderly march, Is 
scattered over the prairie often to the width of full half a 
mile, so that Its trail Is nowhere clearly marked, and the task 
of following It Is made doubly w^earisome and difficult. By 
good fortune plenty of large ant-hills, a yard or more In 
diameter, were scattered over the plain, and these were fre- 
quently broken by the footprints of men and horses, and 
marked by traces of the lodge-poles. The succulent leaves of 
the prickly-pear, also bruised from the same causes, helped a 
little to guide us ; so Inch by inch we moved along. Often 
we lost the trail altogether, and then would recover It again, 
but late In the afternoon we found ourselves totally at fault. 
We stood alone without a clew to guide us. The broken 
plain expanded for league after league around us, and in 
front the long dark ridge of mountains was stretching from 
north to south. Mount Laramie, a little on our right, 
towered high above the rest, and from a dark valley just 



?04 The Oregon Trail 

beyond one of its lower declivities we discerned volumes of 
white smoke slowly rolling up into the clear air. 

"I think," said Raymond, ''some Indians must be there. 
Perhaps w^e had better go." But this plan was not rashly to 
be adopted, and we determined still to continue our search 
after the lost trail. Our good stars prompted us to this deci- 
sion, for we afterward had reason to believe, from informa- 
tion given us by the Indians, that tlie smoke was raised as a 
decoy by a Crow war party. 

Evening was coming on, and there was no wood or water 
nearer than the foot of the mountains. So thither we turned, 
directing our course toward the point where Laramie Creek 
issues forth upon the prairie. When we reached it the bare 
tops of the mountains were still brightened with sunshine. The 
little river was breaking with a vehement and angry current 
from its dark prison. There was something in the near vicin- 
ity of the mountains, in the loud surging of the rapids, wonder- 
fully cheering and exhilarating; for although once as familiar 
as home itself, they had been for months strangers to my 
experience. There was a rich grass-plot by the river's bank, 
surrounded by low ridges, which would effectually screen our- 
selves and our fire from the sight of wandering Indians. 
Here among the grass I observed numerous circles of large 
stones, which, as Raymond said, were traces of. a Dakota w^in- 
ter encampment. We lay down and did not awake till the sun 
was up. A large rock projected from the shore, and behind 
it the deep water was slowly gddying round and round. The 
temptation wds irresistible. I threw ofi my clothes, leaped in, 
suffered myself to be borne once round with the current, and 
then, seizing the strong root of a water-plant, drew myself 
to the shore. The effect was so invigorating and refreshing 
that I mistook it for returning health. "Pauline," thought I, 
as I led the little mare up to be saddled, ''only thrive as I do, 
and you and I will have sport yet among the buffalo beyond 
these mountains," But scarcely were we mounted and on our 



Hunting Indians 205 

way before the momentary glow passed. Again I hung as usual 
in my seat, scarcely able to hold myself erect. 

"Look yonder," said Raymond; "you see that big hollow 
there; the Indians must have gone that way, if they went 
anywhere about here." 

We reached the gap, which was like a deep notch cut into 
the mountain ridge, and here we soon discerned an ant-hill 
furrowed with the mark of a lodge-pole. This was quite 
enough; there could be no doubt now. As we rode on, the 
opening growing narrower, the Indians had been compelled 
to march in closer order, and the traces became numerous 
and distinct. The gap terminated in a rocky gateway, lead- 
ing into a rough passage upward between two percipitous 
mountains. Here grass and weeds were bruised to fragments 
by the throng that had passed through. We moved slowly 
over the rocks, up the passage; and in this toilsome manner 
we advanced for an hour or two, bare precipices, hundreds of 
feet high, shooting up on either hand. Raymond, with his 
hardy mule, was a few rods before me, w^hen we came to the 
foot of an ascent steeper than the rest, and which I trusted 
might prove the highest point of the defile. Pauline strained 
upward for a fev/ yards, moaning and stumbling, and then 
came to a dead step, unable to proceed further. I dis- 
mounted, and attempted to lead her; but my own exhausted 
strength soon gave out; so I loosened the trail-rope from her 
neck, and tying it round my arm, crawled up on my hands 
and knees. I gained the top, totally exhausted, the sweat 
drops trickling from my forehead. Pauline stood like a 
statue by my side, her shadow falling upon the scorching 
rock; and in this shade, for there was no other, I lay for 
some time, scarcely able to move a limb. All around the 
black crags, sharp as needles at the top, stood glowing in the 
sun, without a tree, or a bush, or a blade of grass, to cover 
their precipitous sides. The whole scene seemed parched 
with a pitiless, insufferable heat. 



206 The Oregon Trail 

After a while I could mount again, and we moved on, 
descending the rocky defile on its western side. Thinking 
of that morning's journey, it has sometimes seemed to me 
that there was something ridiculous in my position : a man, 
armed to the teeth, but wholly unable to fight and equally 
so to run away, traversing a dangerous wilderness on a sick 
horse. But these thoughts were retrospective, for at the 
time I was in too grave a mood to entertain a very lively 
sense of the ludicrous. 

Raymond's saddle-girth slipped, and while I proceeded he 
was stopping behind to repair the mischief. I came to the 
top of a little declivity, w^here a m^ost welcome sight greeted 
my eye ; a nook of fresh green grass nestled among the cliffs, 
sunny clumps of bushes on one side, and shaggy old pine trees 
leaning forward from the rocks on the other. A shrill, famil- 
iar voice saluted me, and recalled me to daj^s of boyhood : 
that of the insect called the 'locust" by New England school- 
boys, which was fast clinging among the heated boughs of 
the old pine trees. Then, too, as I passed the bushes, the low 
sound of falling water reached my ear. Pauline turned of 
her own accord, and pushing through the boughs we found 
a black rock, overarched by the cool green canopy. An Icy 
stream was pouring from its side into a wide basin of white 
sand, from whence it had no visible outlet, but filtered 
through into the soil below. While I filled a tin cup at the 
spring, Pauline was eagerly plunging her head deep in the 
pool. Other visitors had been there before us. All around 
in the soft soil were the footprints of elk, deer, and the Rocky 
Mountain sheep ; and the grizzly-bear too had left the recent 
prints of his broad foot, with its frightful array of claws. 
Among these mountains was his home. 

Soon after leaving the spring we found a little grassy 
plain, encircled by the mountains, and marked, to our great 
joy, with all the traces of an Indian camp. Raymond's prac- 
ticed eye detected certain signs by which he recognized the 



Hunting Indians 207 

spot where Reynal's lodge had been pitched and his horses 
picketed. I approached, and stood looking at the place. 
Reynal and I had, I believe, hardly a feeling in common. I 
disliked the fellow, and it perplexed me a good deal to under- 
stand why I should look with so much interest on the ashes 
of his fire, when between him and me there seemed no other 
bond of sj'mpathy than the slender and precarious one of a 
kindred race. 

In half an hour from this we were clear of the moun- 
tains. There was a plain before us, totally barren and 
thickly peopled in many parts with the little prairie dogs, 
who sat at the mouths of their burrows and yelped at us 
as we passed. The plain, as we thought, was about six miles 
wide; but it cost us two hours to cross it. Then another 
mountain range rose before us, grander and more wild than 
the last had been. Far out of the dense shrubbery that 
clothed the steeps for a thousand feet shot up black crags, 
all leaning one way, and shattered by storms and thunder 
into grim and^threatening shapes. As we entered a narrow 
passage on the trail of the Indians, they impended frightfully 
on one side above our heads. 

Our course was through dense woods, in the shade and 
twinkling sunlight of overhanging boughs. I w^ould I could 
recall to mind all the startling combinations that presented 
themselves, as winding from side to side of the passage, to 
avoid its obstructions, we could see, glancing at intervals 
through the foliage, the awful forms of the gigantic clifFs, 
that seemed at times to hem us in on the right and on the 
left, before us and behind ! Another scene in a few moments 
greeted us; a tract of gray and sunny woods, broken into 
knolls and hollows, enlivened by birds and interspersed with 
fliow^ers. Among the rest I recognized the mellow whistle of 
the robin, an old familiar friend whom I had scarce expected 
to meet In such a place. Humble-bees too were buzzing" 
heavily about the flowers; and of these a species of larkspur 



208 The Oregon Trail 

caught my eye, more appropriate, It should seem, to culti- 
vated gardens than to a remote wilderness. Instantly it 
recalled a multitude of dormant and delightful recollections. 

Leaving behind us this spot and its associations, a sight 
soon presented itself, characteristic of that warlike region. 
In an open space, fenced in by high rocks, stood tw^o Indian 
forts, of a square form, rudely built of sticks and logs. They 
were somewhat ruinous, having probably been constructed 
the year before. Each might have contained about twenty 
men. Perhaps in this gloomy spot some party had been beset 
by their enemies, and those scowling rocks and blasted trees 
might not long since have looked down on a conflict un- 
chronicled and unknov/n. Yet if any traces of bloodshed 
remained they were conipletely hidden by the bushes and tall 
rank weeds. 

Gradually the mountains drew apart, and the passage 
expanded into a plain, where again we found traces of an 
Indian encampment. There were trees and bushes just 
before us, and we stopped here for an hour's rest and re- 
freshment. When we had finished our meal Raymond 
struck fire, and lighting his pipe, sat down at the foot of a 
tree to smoke. For some time I observed him puffing away 
with a face of unusual solemnity. Then slowly taking the 
pipe from his lips, he looked up and remarked that we had 
better not go any farther. 

"Why not?" asked I. 

He said that the country was become very dangerous, 
that we were entering the range of the Snakes, Arapahos, 
and Gros Ventre Blackfeet, and that If any of their wander- 
ing parties should meet us, it would cost us our lives; but he 
added, with a blunt fidelity that nearly reconciled me to his 
stupidity, that he would go anywhere I wished. I told him 
to bring up the animals, and mounting them we proceeded 
again. I confess tliat, as we moved forward, the prospect 
seemed but a dreary and doubtful one. ' I would have given 



Hunting Indians 209 

the world for my ordinarj^ elasticity of body and mind, and 
for a horse of such strength and spirit as the journey required. 

Closer and closer the rocks gathered round us, growing 
taller and steeper and pressing more and more upon our path. 
We entered at length a defile which I never have seen rivaled. 
The mountain was cracked from top to bottom, and we were 
creeping along the bottom of the fissure, in dampness and 
gloom, with the ctink of hoofs on the loose shingly rocks, and 
the hoarse murmuring of a petulant brook which kept us 
company. Sometimes the water, foaming among the stones, 
overspread the whole narrow passage; sometimes, withdraw- 
ing to one side, it gave us room to pass dry-shod. Looking 
up, we could see a narrow ribbon of bright blue sky between 
the dark edges of the opposing cliffs. This did not last long. 
The passage soon widened, and sunbeams found their way 
down, flashing upon the black waters. The defile would 
spread out to many rods in width ; bushes, trees, and flowers 
would spring by the side of the brook; the cliffs would be 
feathered with shrubbery that clung in every crevice, and 
fringed Vv^th trees that grew along their sunny edges. Then 
we w^ould be moving again in the darkness. The passage 
seemed about four miles long, and before we reached the end 
of it, the unshod hoofs of our animals were lamentably bro- 
ken, and their legs cut by the sharp stones. Issuing from 
the mountain we found another plain. All around it stood 
a circle of lofty precipices that seemed the impersonation of 
silence and solitude. Here again the Indians had encamped, 
as well they might, after passing with their women, children, 
and horses through the gulf behind us. In one day we had 
made a journey which had cost them three to accomplish. 

The only outlet to this amphitheater lay over a hill some 
two hundred feet high, up which we moved with difficulty. 
Looking from the top, we saw that at last we were free of 
the mountains. The prairie spread before us, but so wild 
and broken that the view was ever5^where obstructed. Far 



210 The Oregon Trail 

on our left one tall hill swelled up against the sky, on the 
smooth, pale green surface of which four slowly moving 
black specks were discernible. They were evidently buffalo, 
and we hailed the sight as a good augury; for where the 
buffalo were, there too the Indians would probably be found. 
We hoped on that very night to reach the village. We 
were anxious to do so for a double reason, welshing to bring 
our wearisome journey to an end, and knowing, moreover, 
that though to enter the village In broad daylight w^ould be 
a perfectly safe experiment, yet to encamp in its vicinity 
would be dangerous. But as we rode on, the sun was sinking, 
and soon w^as within half an hour of the horizon. We 
ascended a hill and looked round us for a spot for our encamp- 
ment. The prairie was like a turbulent ocean, suddenly con- 
gealed when Its waves were at the highest, and it lay half In 
light and half In shadow, as the rich sunshine, j'ellow as gold, 
was pouring over It. The rough bushes of the wild sage were 
growing everywhere. Its dull pale green overspreading hill 
and hollow\ Yet a little way before us, a bright verdant line 
of grass was winding along the plain, and here and there 
throughout Its course water was glistening darklj^ We went 
down to It, kindled a fire, and turned our horses loose to feed. 
It was a little trickling brook, that for some j^ards on either 
bank turned the barren prairie Into fertility, and here and 
there It spread into deep pools, where the beaver had dammed 
it up. 

We placed our last remaining piece of the antelope before 
a scanty fire, mournfully reflecting on our exhausted stock 
of provisions. Just then an enormous gray hare, peculiar to 
these prairies, came jumping along, and seated himself within 
fifty yards to look at us. I thoughtlessly raised my rifle to 
shoot him, but Raj-mond called out to me not to fire for fear 
the report should reach the ears of the Indians. That night 
for the first time we considered that the danger to which 
we were exposed was of a somewhat serious character ; and to 



Hunting Indians 211 

those who are unacquainted with Indians, it may seem strange 
that our chief apprehensions arose from the supposed proxim- 
ity of the people whom we intended to visit. Had any strag- 
gh'ng party of these faithful friends caught sight of us from 
the hill-top, they would probably have returned in the night 
to plunder us of our horses and perhaps of our scalps. But 
we were on the prairie, where the genius loci is at war w^ith 
all nervous apprehensions; and I presume that neither Ray- 
mond nor I thought twice of the matter that evening. 

While he was looking after the animals, I sat by the fire 
engaged in the novel task of baking bread. The utensils 
were of the most simple and primitive kind, consisting of two 
sticks inclining over the bed of coals, one end thrust into the 
ground while the dough was twisted in a spiral form round 
the other. Under such circumstances all the epicurean in 
a man's nature is apt to awaken within him. I revisited in 
fancy the far distant abodes of good fare, not indeed Fras- 
cati's, or the Trois Freres Provencaux,^ for that w^re too 
extreme a flight; but no other than the hom.ely table of my 
jold friend and host, Tom Crawford,^ of the White Moun- 
tains. By a singular revulsion, Tom himself, whom I well 
remember to have looked upon as the impersonation of all 
that is wild and backwoodsmanlike, now appeared before me 
as the ministering angel of comfort and good living. Being 
fatigued and drowsy I began to doze, and my thoughts, fol- 
lowing the same train of association, assumed another form. 
Half-dreaming, I saw myself surrounded with the mountains 
of New England, alive with water-falls, their black crags 
tinctured with milk-w^hite mists. For this reverie I paid a 
speedy penalty; for the bread was black on one side and soft 
on the other. 

'The spirit of the place. 

^Frascati's was a famcus Pans restaurant. Probably the Trois Freres 
Provencaux was another. 

"Thomas J. Crawtord, keeper of the old Notch House, replaced hy the Craw- 
ford House, in the White Mountains. 



212 The Oregon Trail 

For eight hours Raymond and I, pillowed on our saddles, 
lay insensible as logs. Pauline's yellow head was stretched 
over me when I awoke. I got up and examined her. Her 
feet indeed were bruised and swollen by the accidents of 
yesterday, but her eye was brighter, her motions livelier, and 
her mysterious malady had visibly abated. We moved on, 
hoping wnthin an hour to come in sight of the Indian village ; 
but again disappointment aw^aited us. The trail disappeared, 
melting away upon a hard and stony plain. Raymond and I, 
separating, rode from side to side, scrutinizing every yard of 
ground, until at length I discerned traces of the lodge-poles 
passing by the side of a ridge of rocks. We began again to 
follow them. 

"What is that black spot out there on the prairie?" 

"It looks like a dead buffalo," answered Raymond. 

We rode out to it, and found it to be the huge carcass of 
a bull killed by the hunters as they had passed. Tangled 
hair and scraps of hide were scattered all around, for the 
wolves had been making merry over it, and had hollowed out 
the entire carcass. It was covered with myriads of large 
black crickets, and from its appearance must certainly have 
lain there for four or five days. The sight was a most dis- 
heartening one, and I observed to Raymond that the Indians 
might still be fifty or sixty miles before us. But he shook 
his head, and replied that they dared not go so far for fear 
of their enemies, the Snakes. 

Soon after this we lost the trail again, and ascended a 
neighboring ridge, totally at a loss. Before us lay a plain 
perfectly flat, spreading on the right and left without appar- 
ent limit, and bounded in front by a long broken line of hills, 
ten or twelve miles distant. All was open and exposed to 
view, yet not a buffalo nor an Indian was visible. 

"Do you see that?" said Raymond; "now we liad better 
turn round." 

But, as Raymond's bourgeois thought otherwise, we 



Hunting Indians 213 

descended the hill and began to cross the plain. We had 
come so far that I knew perfectly well neither Pauline's limbs 
nor my own could carry me back to Fort Laramie. I con- 
sidered that the lines of expediency and inclination tallied 
exactly, and that the most prudent course was to keep for- 
ward. The ground immediately around us was thickly 
strewn with the skulls and bones of buffalo, for here a year 
or two before the Indians had made a ''surround ;"^ yet no 
living game presented itself. At length, however, an ante- 
lope sprang up and gazed at us. We fired together, and by 
a singular fatality we both missed, although the animal stood, 
a fair mark, within eighty yards. This 111 success might per- 
hapfs be charged to our own eagerness, for by this time we 
had no provisions left except a little flour. We could discern 
several small lakes, or rather extensive pools of water, glisten- 
ing in the distance. As we approached them, wolves and 
antelope bounded away through the tall grass that grew in 
their vicinity, and flocks of large white plover flew screamJng 
over their surface. Having failed of the antelope, Raymond 
tried his hand at the birds with the same 111 success. The 
water also disappointed us. Its muddy margin was so beaten 
up by the crowed of buffalo that our timorous animals were 
afraid to approach. So we turned away and moved toward 
the hills. The rank grass, where it was not trampled down 
by the buffalo, fairly swept our horses' necks. 

Again we found the same execrable barren prairie offering 
no clew by which to guide our way. As we drew near the 
hills an opening appeared, through which the Indians must 
have gone if they had passed that w^ay at all. Slowly we 
began to ascend It. I felt the most dreary forebodings of ill 
success, when on looking round I could discover neither dent 
of hoof, nor footprint, nor trace of lodge-pole, though the 
passage was encumbered by the ghastly skulls of buffalo. We 
heard thunder muttering ; a storm was coming on. 

^A method of hunting in which buffalo or other game are surrounded and 
driven into a mass at some favorable spot for shooting. 



214 The Oregon Trail 

As we gained the top of the gap, the prospect beyond 
began to disclose itself. First, we saw a long dark line of 
ragged clouds upon the horizon, while above them rose the 
peak of the Medicine-Bow, the vanguard of the Rocky Moun- 
tains ;^ then little by little the plain came into view, a vast 
green uniformity, forlorn and tenantless, though Laramie 
Creek glistened in a waving line over its surface, without a 
bush or a tree upon its banks. As yet, the round projecting 
shoulder of a hill intercepted a part of the view. I rode in 
advance, when suddenly I could distinguish a itw dark spots 
on the prairie, along the bank of the stream. 

"Buffalo!" said I. Then a sudden hope flashed upon me, 
and eagerly and anxiously I looked again. 

"Horses!" exclaimed Raymond, with a tremendous oath, 
lashing his mule forward as he spoke. More and more of the 
plain disclosed Itself, and in rapid succession m.ore and more 
horses appeared, scattered along the river bank or feeding in 
bands over the prairie. Then, suddenly, standing In a circle 
by the stream, swarming with their savage inhabitants, we 
saw rising before us the tall lodges of the Ogallala. Never 
did the heart of wanderer more gladden at the sight of liome 
than did mine at the sight of those wild habitations ! 

iThe Medicine Bow Mountains extend from Long's Peak, Colorado, to Wyoming, 
and form the southwest boundary of Laramie Plain. The North Fork of the 
Platte flows between them and the main range of the Rocky Mountains. 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE OGALLALA VILLAGE 

Such a narrative as this is hardly the place for portray- 
ing the mental features of the Indians. The same picture, 
slightly changed in shade and coloring, would serve with 
very few exceptions for all the tribes that lie north of the 
Mexican territories/ But with this striking similarity in 
tlieir modes of thought, the tribes of the lake and ocean 
shores, of the forests and of the plains, differ greatly in their 
manner of life. Having been domicsticated for several weeks 
among one of the wildest of the wild hordes that roam over 
the remote prairies, I had extraordinary opportunities of 
observing them, and I flatter myself that a faithful picture 
of the scenes that passed daily before my eyes maj^ not be 
devoid of interest and value. These men were thorough 
savages. Neither their m.anners nor their ideas were in the 
slightest degree modified by contact with civilization. They 
knew nothing of the power and real character of the white 
man, and their children would scream in terror at the sight 
of me. Their religion, their superstitions, and their preju- 
dices were the same that had been handed down to them from 
immemorial time. They fought with the same w^eapons that 
their fathers fought with, and wore the same rude garments 
of skins. 

Great changes are at hand in that region. With the 
stream of emigration to Oregon and California, the buffalo 
will dwindle away, and the large wandering communities 
who depend on them for support must be broken and scat- 
tered. The Indians will soon be corrupted by the example of 
the whites, abased by whisky, and overawed by military posts ; 

^North, that is, of what was then the northern boundary of Mexico. 

215 



216 The Oregon Trail 

so that within a few years the traveler may pass in tolerable 
security through their country. Its danger and its charm will 
have disappeared together. 

As soon as Raymond and I discovered the village from 
the gap in the hills, we were seen in our turn ; keen eyes 
were constantly on the watch. As we rode down upon the 
plain the side of the village nearest us w^as darkened with a 
crowd of naked figures gathering around the lodges. Several 
men came forward to meet us. I could distinguish among 
them the green blanket of the Frenchman Reynal. When 
we came up the ceremony of shaking hands had to be gone 
through with in due form, and then all were eager to know 
what had become of the rest of my party. I satisfied them 
on this point, and we all moved forward together toward the 
village. 

"You've missed it," said Reynal; "if 5-ou'd been here day 
before yesterday, 5'Ou'd have found the whole prairie over 
yonder black with buffalo as far as you could see. There 
were no cows, though; nothing but bulls. We m.ade a 'sur- 
round' every day till yesterday. See the village there; don't 
that look like good living?" 

In fact I could see, even at that distance, that long cords 
were stretched from lodge to lodge, over which the meat, 
cut by the squaws into thin sheets, was hanging to dry in the 
sun. I noticed too that the village was somewhat smaller 
than when I had last seen it, and I asked Reynal the cause. 
He said that old Le Borgne had felt too weak to pass over 
the mountains, and so had remained behind with all his rela- 
tions, including Mahto-Tatonk?. and his brothers. The 
Whirlwind too had been unwilling to come so far, because, 
as Rej-nal said, he was afraid. Only half a dozen lodges had 
adhered to him, the m^ain body of the village setting their 
chief's authority at naught, and taking the course most agree- 
able to their inclinations. 

"What chiefs are there in the village now?" said I. 



The Ogallala Village 217 

"Well," said Reynal, "there's old Red-Water, and the 
Eagle-Feather, and the Big Crow, and the Mad Wolf and 
the Panther, and the White-Shield, and — what's his name? — 
the half-breed Cheyenne." 

By this time we were close to the village, and I observed 
that while the greater part of the lodges w^ere very large and 
neat in their appearance, there was at one side a cluster of 
squalid, miserable huts. I looked toward them, and made some 
remark about their wretched appearance. But I was touch- 
ing upon delicate ground. 

"My squaw's relations live in those lodges," said Reynal 
very warmly, "and there isn't a better set in the whole vil- 
lage. 

"Are there any chiefs among them?" asked I. 

"Chiefs?" said Reynal; "yes, plenty!" 

"What are their names?" I inquired. 

"Their names? Why, there's the Arrow-Head. If he 
isn't a chief he ought to be one. And there's the Hail-Storm. 
He's nothing but a boy, to be sure; but he's bound to be a 
chief one of these days !" 

Just then we passed between two of the lodges, and 
entered the great area of the village. Superb naked figures 
stood silently gazing on us. 

"Where's the Bad Wound's lodge?" said I to Reynal. 

"There, you've missed it again ! The Bad Wound Is 
away w^ith The Whirlwind. If "you could have found him 
here, and gone to live in his lodge, he would have treated 
,,, you better than any man in the village. But there's the Big 
Crow's lodge yonder, next to old Red-Water's. He's a good 
Indian for the whites, and I advise you to go and live with 
im. 

"Are there many squaws and children in his lodge?" 
said I. 

"No; only one squaw and tw^o or three children. He 
keeps the rest in a separate lodge by themselves." 



218 The Oregon Trail 

So, still followed by a crowd of Indians, Raymond and 
I rode up to the entrance of the Big Crow's lodge. A squaw 
came out immediately and took our horses. I put aside the 
leather flap that covered the low opening, and stooping, 
entered the Big Crow's dwelling. There I could see the 
chief in the dim light, seated at one side, on a pile of buffalo 
robes. He greeted me with a guttural "How, cola!"^ I 
requested Reynal to tell him that Raymond and I were come 
to live with him. The Big Crow gave another low exclama- 
tion. If the reader thinks that we were intruding somewhat 
cavalierly, I beg him to observe that every Indian in the village 
would have deemed himself honored that white men should 
give such preference to his hospitality^ 

The squaw spread a buffalo robe for us in the guest's place 
at the head of the lodge. Our saddles were brought in, and 
scarcely were we seated upon them before the place was 
thronged with Indians, who came crowding in to see us. The 
Big Crow produced his pipe and filled it with the mixture of 
tobacco and shongsashaj or red willow bark. Round and 
round it passed, and a lively conversation went forward. 
Meanwhile a squaw placed before the two guests a wooden 
bowl of boiled buffalo meat, but unhappily this was not the 
only banquet destined to be inflicted en us. Rapidly, one 
after another, boys and young squaws thrust their heads In at 
the opening, to invite us to various feasts in different parts 
of the village. For half an hour or more we were actively 
engaged in passing from lodge to lodge, tasting in each of 
the bowl of meat set before us, and inhaling a whif¥ or two 
from our entertainer's pipe. A thunderstorm that had been 
threatening for some time now began in good earnest. We 
crossed over to Reynal's lodge, though it hardly deserved this 
name, for it consisted only of a few old buffalo robes sup- 
ported on poles, and was quite open on one side. Here we 
sat down, and the Indians gathered round us. 

^A common Indian expression of greeting. 



The Ogallala Village 219 

"What is it," said I, "that makes the thunder?" 

"It's my belief," said Reynal, "that it is a big stone rolling 
over the sky." 

"Very likely," I replied ; "but I want to know what the 
Indians think about it." 

So he interpreted my question, which seemed to produce 
some doubt and debate. There was evidently a difference of 
opinion. At last old Mene-Seela, or Red-water, who sat by 
himself on one side, looked up with his withered face, and said 
he had always known what the thunder was. It was a great 
black bird ; and once he had seen it, in a dream, swooping 
down from the Black Hills, with its loud roaring wings; and 
when it flapped them over a lake, they struck lightning from 
the water. 

"The thunder is bad," said another old man, who sat 
muffled in his buffalo robe; "he killed my brother last sum- 
mer. 

Reynal, at my request, asked for an explanation ; but the 
old man remained doggedly silent, and would not look up. 
Some time after I learned how the accident occurred. The 
man who was killed belonged to an association which, among 
other mystic functions, claimed the exclusive power and privi- 
lege of fighting the thunder. Whenever a storm which they 
wished to avert was threatening, the thunder-fighters would 
take their bows and arrows, their guns, their magic drum, and 
a sort of whistle made out of the wingbone of the war eagle. 
Thus equipped, they would run out and fire at the rising 
cloud, whooping, yelling, whistling, and beating their drum, 
to frighten it down again. One afternoon a heavy black cloud 
was coming up, and they repaired to the top of a hill, where 
they brought all their magic artillery into play against it. 
But the undaunted thunder, refusing to be terrified, kept 
moving straight onward, and darted out a bright flash which 
struck one of the party dead as he was in the very art or 
shaking his long iron-pointed lance against it. Thp rest 



220 The Oregon Trail 

scattered and ran yelling in an ecstasy of superstitious terror 
back to their lodges. 

The lodge of my host Kongra-Tonga, or the Big Crow, 
presented a picturesque spectacle that evening. A score or 
more of Indians were seated around in a circle, their dark 
naked forms just visible by the dull light of the smoldering 
fire in the center, the pipe glowing brightly in the gloom as it 
passed from hand to hand round the lodge. Then a squaw 
would drop a piece of buffalo-fat on the dull embers. 
Instantly a bright glancing flame would leap up, darting its 
clear light to the very apex of the tall conical structure, 
where the tops of the slender poles that supported its cover- 
ing of leather were gathered together. It gilded the features 
of the Indians, as wath animated gestures they sat around it, 
telling their endless stories of war and hunting. It displayed 
rude garments of skins that hung around the lodge, the bow, 
quiver, and lance suspended over the resting-place of the 
chief, and the rifles and pow^der-horns of the tw^o white 
guests. For a moment all w^ould be bright as day; then 
the flames would die away, and fitful flashes from the 
embers w^ould illumine the lodge, and then leave it in dark- 
ness. Then all the light w^ould wholly fade, and the lodge 
and all w'ithin it be involved again in obscurity. 

As I left the lodge next morning, I w^as saluted by howl- 
ing and yelping from all around the village, and half its 
canine population rushed forth to the attack. Being as cow- 
ardly as they were clamorous, they kept jumping around me 
at the distance of a few yards, only one little cur, about ten 
inches long, having spirit enough to make a direct assault. 
He dashed valiantly at the leather tassel w^hich in the Dakota 
fashion was trailing behind the heel of my moccasin, and kept 
his hold, growding and snarling all the w-hile, though every 
step I made almost jerked him over on his back. As I knew 
that the eyes of the w^hole village were on the watch to see 
a I showed any sign of apprehension, I walked forw^ard with- 



The Ogallala Village 221 

out looking to the right or left, surrounded wherever I went 
by this magic circle of dogs. When I came to Reynal's 
lodge I sat down by it, on which the dogs dispersed growling 
to their respective quarters. Only one large white one 
remained, who kept running about before me and showing 
his teeth. I called him, but he only growled the more. I 
looked at him well. He was fat and sleek, just such a dog 
as I wanted. *'My friend," thought I, "j^ou shall pay for 
this! 1 w^ill have you eaten this very morning!" 

I intended that day to give the Indians a feast, by way 
of conveying a favorable impression of my character and 
dignity; and a white dog is the dish which the customs of 
the Dakota prescribe for all occasions of formality and 
importance. I consulted Reynal; he soon discovered that 
an old woman in the next lodge w^as owner of the white dog. 
I took a gaudy cotton handkerchief, and laying it on the 
ground, arranged some vermilion, beads, and other trinkets 
upon it. Then the old squaw was summoned. I pointed 
to the dog and to the handkerchief. She gave a scream of 
delight, snatched up the prize, and vanished with it into her 
lodge. For a few more trifles I engaged the services of two 
other squaws, each of whom took the white dog by one of 
his paws, and led him aw^ay behind the lodges, while he kept 
looking up at them with a face of innocent surprise. Having 
killed him they threw him into a fire to singe ; then chopped 
him up and put him into two large kettles to boil. Mean- 
while I told. Raymond to fry in buffalo fat what little flour 
we had left, and also to make a kettle of tea as an additional 
item of the repast. 

The Big Crow's squaw was briskly at work sweeping 
out the lodge for the approaching festivity.. I confided to 
my host himself the task of inviting the guests, thinking that 
I might thereby shift from my own shoulders the odium 
of fancied neglect and oversight. 

When feasting is in question, one hour of the day serve* 



222 The Oregon Trail 

an Indian as well as another. My entertainment came off 
about eleven o'clock. At that hour, Rej^nal and Raymond 
walked across the area of the village, to the admiration of 
the inhabitants, carrying the two kettles of dog-meat slung 
on a pole between them. These they placed in the center 
of the lodge, and then went back for the bread and the tea. 
Meanwhile I had put on a pair of brilliant moccasins, and 
substituted for my old buckskin frock a coat which I had 
brought with me in view of such public occasions. I also 
made careful use of the razor, an operation which no man 
will neglect who desires to gain the good opinion of Indians. 
Thus attired, I seated myself between Rejmal and Raymond 
at the head of the lodge. Only a few minutes elapsed before 
all the guests had come in and were seated on the ground, 
w^edged together in a close circle around the lodge. Each 
brought with him a wooden bowl to hold his share of the 
repast. When all were assembled, two of the officials called 
""soldiers"^ by the white men, came forward with ladles 
made of the horn of the Rocky Mountain sheep, and began 
to distribute the feast, always assigning a double share to the 
old men and chiefs. The dog vanished with astonishing 
celerity, and each guest turned his dish bottom upward to 
show that all was gone. Then the bread was distributed 
In its turn, and finally the tea. As the soldiers poured it out 
Into the same wooden bowls that had served for the substan- 
tial part of the meal, I thought it had a particularly curious 
and uninviting color. 

"Oh!" said Reynal, ''there was not tea enough, so I 
stirred some soot in the kettle, to make it look strong." 

Fortunately an Indian's palate Is not very discriminating. 
The tea was well sweetened, and that was all they cared for. 

Now, the former part of the entertainment being con- 
cluded, the time for speech-making was come. The Big 
Crow produced a flat piece of wood on which he cut up 

»See p. 269. post. 



The Ogallala Village 223 

tobacco and shongsasha, and mixed them in due proportions. 
The pipes were filled and passed from hand to hand around 
the compan}'. Then I began my speech, each sentence being 
interpreted by Reynal as I went on, and echoed by the 
whole audience with the" usual exclamations of assent and 
approval. As nearly as I can recollect, it was as follows : 

I had come, I told them, from a country so far distant, 
that at the rate they travel they could not reach it in a 
year. 

"How! how!" 

"There the Meneaska were more numerous than the 
blades of grass on the prairie. The squaws were far more 
beautiful than any they had ever seen, and all the men were 
brave w^arriors." 

"How! how! how!" 

Here I was assailed by sharp twinges of conscience, for 
I fancied I could perceive a fragrance of perfumery in the 
air, and a vision rose before me of white kid gloves and silken 
mustaches with the mild and gentle countenances of numer- 
ous fair-haired young men. But I recovered myself and 
began again. 

"While I was living in the Meneaska lodges, I had heard 
of the Ogallala, how great and brave a nation they were, 
how they loved the whites, and how well they could hunt the 
buffalo and strike their enemies. I resolved to come and see 
if all that I heard was true." 

"How! how! how! how!" 

"As I had come on horseback through the mountains, I 
had been able to bring them only a "»^ery few presents." 

"How!" 

"But I had enough tobacco to give them all a small piece. 
They might smoke it and see how much better it was than 
the tobacco w^hich they got from the traders." 

"How! how! how!" 

"I had plenty of powder, lead, knives, and tobacco at 



224 The Oregon Trail 

Fort Laramie. These I was anxious to give them, and if 
any of them should come to the fort before I went aw^ay, I 
w^ould make them handsome presents." 

*'How! how! how! how!" 

Raymond then cut up and distributed among them two 
or three pounds of tobacco, and old Mene-Seela began to 
make a reply. It was quite long, but the following, w^as the 
pith of it: 

"He had always loved the w^hites. They were the wisest 
people on earth. He believed they could do everything, and 
he was always glad when any of them came to live in the 
Ogallala lodges. It was true L had not made them many 
presents, but the reason of it was plain. It was clear that I 
liked them, or I never should have come so far to find their 
village." 

Several other speeches of similar import followed, and 
then this more serious matter being disposed of, there was 
an interval of smoking, laughing, and conversation ; but old 
Mene-Seela suddenly interrupted it with a loud voice: 

"Now is a good time," he said, "when all the old men 
and chiefs are here together, to decide what the people shall 
do. We came over the mountain to make our lodges for next 
year. Our old ones are good for nothing; they are rotten 
and worn out. But we have been disappointed. We have 
killed buffalo bulls enough, but we have found no herds of 
cows, and the skins of bulls are too thick and heavy for our 
squaws to make lodges of. There must be plenty of cows 
about the Medicine-Bow Mountain. We ought to go there. 
To be sure it is farther westward than we have ever been 
before, and perhaps the Snakes will attack us, for those hunt- 
ing grounds belong to them. But we must have new lodges 
at any rate; our old ones will not serve for another year. 
We ought not to be afraid of the Snakes. Our warriors 
are brave, and they are all ready for war. Besides, we have 
three white men with their rifles to help us." 



The Ogallala Village 225 

I could not help thinking that the old man relied a little 
too much on the aid of allies, one of whom was a coward, 
another a blockhead, and the third an invalid. This speech 
produced a good deal of debate. As Re3'nal did not inter- 
pret what was said, I could only judge of the meaning by 
the features and gestures of the speakers. At the end of it, 
however, the greater number seemed to have fallen in with 
Mene-Seela's opinion. A short silence followed, and then 
the old man struck up a discordant chant, which I was told 
was a song of thanks for the entertainment I had given 
them. 

"Now," said he, "let us go and give the white man a 
chance to breathe." 

So the company all dispersed into the open air, and for 
some time the old chief was walking round the village, sing- 
ing his song in praise of the feast, after the usual custom of 
the nation. 

At last the day drew to a close, and as the sun went down 
the horses came trooping from the surrounding plains to be 
picketed before the dwellings of their respective masters. 
Soon within the great circle of lodges appeared another 
concentric circle of restless horses ; and here and there fires 
were glowing and flickering amid the gloom on the dusky 
figures around them. I went over and sat by the lodge of 
Reynal. The Eagle-Feather, who was a son of Mena-Seela 
and brother of my host the Big Crow, was seated there 
already, and I asked him if the village would move in the 
morning. He shook his head and said that nobody could 
tell, for since old Mahto-Tatonka had died, the people had 
been like children that did not know their own minds. They 
were no better than a body without a head. So I, as well 
as the Indians themselves, fell asleep that night without 
knowing whether we should set out in the morning toward 
the country of the Snakes. 

At daybreak, however, as I was coming up from the 
/ 



22G The Oregon Trail 

river after my morning's ablutions, I saw that a movement 
was contemplated. Some of the lodges were reduced to 
nothing but bare skeletons of poles ; the leather covering of 
others was flapping in the wind as the squaws were pulling 
it off. One or two chiefs of note had resolved, it seemed, 
on moving; and so having set their squaws at work, the 
example was tacitly followed by the rest of the village. 
One by one the lodges were sinking down in rapid succes- 
sion, and where the great circle of the village had been only 
a moment before, nothing now remained but a ring of horses 
and Indians, crowded in confusion together. The ruins of 
the lodges were spread over the ground, together with ket- 
tles, stone mallets, great ladles of horn, buiialo robes, and 
cases of painted hide filled with dried meat. Squaws bustled 
about in their busy preparations, the old hags screaming to 
one another at the stretch of their leathern lungs. The 
shaggy horses were patiently standing while the lodge-poles 
were lashed to their sides, and the baggage piled upon their 
backs. The dogs, with their tongues lolling out, lay lazily 
panting, and waiting for the time of departure. Each war- 
rior sat on the ground by the decaying embers of his fire, 
unmoved amid all the confusion, while he held in his hand 
the long trail-rope of his horse. 

As their preparations were completed, each fapiily moved 
off the ground. The crowd was rapidly melting away. I 
could see them crossing the river, and passing in quick suc- 
cession along the profile of the hill on the farther bank. 
When all were gone, I mounted and set out after them, fol- 
lowed by Raymond, and as we gained the summit the whole 
village came in view at once, straggling away for a mile or 
more over the barren plains before us. Ever^^where the 
iron points of lances were glittering. The sun never shone 
upon a more strange array. Here were the heavy-laden 
pack horses, somie wretched old women leading them and 
two or three children clinging to their backs. Here were 



The Ogallala Village 227 

mules or ponies covered from head to tail with gaudy trap- 
pings, and mounted by some gay young squaw, grinning 
bashfulness and pleasure as the Meneaska looked at her. 
Boys with miniature bows and arrows were wandering over 
the plains, little naked children were running along on foot, 
and numberless dogs were scampering among the feet of the 
horses. The young braves, gaudy with paint and feathers, 
were riding in groups among the crowed, and often galloping 
two or three at once along the line, to try the speed of their 
horses. Here and there you might see a rank of sturdy 
pedestrians stalking along in their white buffalo robes. These 
were the dignitaries of the village, the old men and warriors, 
to whose age and experience that wandering democracy 
yielded a silent deference. With the rough prairie and the 
broken hills for its background, the restless scene was strik- 
ing and picturesque beyond description. Days and weeks 
miade me familiar with it, but never im.paired its effect upon 
my fancy. 

As we moved on the broken column grew 5^et more scat- 
tered and disorderly, until, as we approached the foot of a 
hill, I saw the old men before-mentioned seating themselves 
in a line upon the ground, in advance of the whole. They 
lighted a pipe and sat smoking, laughing, and telling stories, 
while the people, stopping as they successively came up, were 
soon gathered in a crowd behind them. Then the old men 
rose, drew their buffalo robes over their shoulders, and strode 
on as before. Gaining the top of the hill, we found a very 
steep declivity before us. There was not a minute's pause. 
The whole descended in a mass, amid dust and confusion. 
The horses braced their feet as they slid down, women and 
children were screaming, dogs yelping as they were trodden 
upon, while stones and earth went rolling to the bottom. In 
a few moments I could see the village from the summit, 
spreading again far and wide over the plain below. 

At our encam.pment that afternoon I was attacked anew 



228 The Oregon Trail 

by my old disorder. In half an hour the strength that I had 
been gaining for a week past had vanished again, and I 
became like a man in a dream. But at sunset I lay down in 
the Big Crow's lodge and slept, totally unconscious till the 
morning. The first thing that awakened me was a hoarse 
flapping over my head, and a sudden light that poured in 
upon me. The camp was breaking up, and the squaws 
were moving the covering from the lodge. I arose and shook 
off my blanket with the feeling of perfect health ; but scarcely 
had I gained my feet when a sense of my helpless condition 
was once more forced upon me, and I found myself scarcely 
able to stand. Raymond had brought up Pauline and the 
mule, and I stooped to raise my saddle from the ground. 
My strength was quite inadequate to the task. ''You must 
saddle her," said I to Raymond, as I sat down again on a 
pile of buffalo robes: 

"Et haec etiam fortasse meminisse juvabit,"* 
I thought, while with a painful effort I raised myself into 
the saddle. Half an hour after, even the expectation that 
Virgil's line expressed seemed destined to disappointm.ent. 
As we w^ere passing over a great plain, surrounded by long 
broken ridges, I rode slowly in advance of the Indians, with 
thoughts that wandered far from the time and from the 
place. Suddenly the sky darkened and thunder began to 
mutter. Clouds w^ere rising over the hills, as dreary and dull 
as the first forebodings of an approaching calamity; and in a 
moment all around was wrapped in shadow. I looked 
behind. The Indians had stopped to prepare for the 
approaching storm, and the dark, dense mass of savages 
stretched far to the right and left. Since the first attack 
of my disorder the effects of rain upon me had usually been 
Injurious in the extreme. I had no strength to spare, having 
at that moment scarcely enough to keep my seat on horseback. 

^Incorrectly quoted from thejEneid, I, 1. 203. "Forsan et haec olim meminisse 
juvabit"="Perhaps it may please you hereafter to recall these trials." 



The Ogallala Village 229 

Then, for the first time, it pressed upon me as a strong 
probability that I might never leave those deserts. *'Well," 
thought I to mj^self, "a prairie makes quick and sharp work. 
Better to die here, in the saddle to the last, than to stifle in 
the hot air of a sick chamber ; and a thousand times better 
than to drag out life, as many have done, in the helpless inac- 
tion of lingering disease." So, drawing the buffalo robe on 
which I sat over my head, I w^aited till the storm should 
come. It broke at last with a sudden burst of fury, and 
passing away as rapidly as it came, left the sky clear again. 
My reflections served me no other purpose than to look back 
upon as a piece of curious experience; for the rain did not 
produce the ill effects that I had expected. We encamped 
within an hour. Having no change of clothes, I contrived 
to borrow a curious kind of substitute from Reynal ; and this 
done, I went home, that is, to the Big Crowd's lodge, to make 
the entire transfer that was necessary. Half a dozen squaws 
were in the lodge, and one of them taking my arm held it 
against her own, while a general laugh and scream of admi- 
ration was raised at the contrast in the color of the skin. 

Our encampment that afternoon was not far distant 
from a spur of the Black Hills, whose ridges, bristling with 
fir trees, rose from the plains a mile or two on our right. 
That they might move more rapidly toward their proposed 
hunting-grounds, the Indians determined to leave at this 
place their stock of dried meat and other superfluous articles. 
Some left even their lodges, and contented themselves with 
carrying a few hides to make a shelter from the sun and rain. 
Half the inhabitants set out in the afternoon, with loaded 
pack horses, toward the mountains. Here they suspended 
the dried meat upon trees, where the wolves and grizzly 
bears could not get at it. All returned at evening. Some 
of the young men declared that they had heard the reports 
of guns among the mountains to the eastward, and many 
surmises were thrown out as to the origin of these sounds. 



230 The Oregon Trail 

For my part, I was in hopes that Shaw and Henry Chatillon 
were coming to join us. I would have welcomed them 
cordially, for I had no other companions than two brutish 
white men and five hundred savages. I little suspected that 
at that very moment my unlucky comrade was lying on a 
buffalo robe at Fort Laramie, fevered with ivy poison, and 
solacing his woes with tobacco and Shakspere. 

As we moved over the plains on the next morning, several 
young men were riding about the country as scouts; and at 
length we began to see them occasionally on the tops of the 
hills, shaking their robes as a signal that they saw buffalo. 
Soon after some bulls came in sight. Horsemen darted 
away in pursuit, and we could see from, the distance that one 
or two of the buffalo were killed. Raymond suddenly became 
inspired. I looked at him as he rode by my side; his face 
had rxtually grown intelligent! 

"This is the country for me !" he said ; "if I could only 
carry the buffalo that are killed here every month down to 
St. Louis I'd make my fortune in one winter. Fd grow 
as rich as old Papin, or Mackenzie either. I call this the poor 
man's market. When Fm hungry I have only got to take 
m.y rifle and go out and get better m.eat than the rich folks 
down below can get with all their money. You won't catch 
me living in St. Louis another winter." 



"Lo.ok! look!" exclaimed Reynal. "The Panther Is run- 
ning an antelope!" 

The Panther, on his black and white horse, one of the 
best in the village, came at full speed over the hill In hot 
pursuit of an antelope that darted away like lightning before 
him. The attempt was made in m.ere sport and bravado, for 
very few are the horses that can for a moment compete In 
swiftness with this little animal. The antelope ran down the 
hill toward the main body of the Indians, who were moving 



The Ogallala Village 231 

over the plain below. Sharp yells were given and horsemen 
galloped out to intercept his flight. At this he turned sharply 
to the left and scoured away with such incredible speed that 
he distanced all his pursuers and even the vaunted horse of 
the Panther himself. A few "moments after we witnessed a 
more serious sport. A shaggy buffalo bull bounded out from 
a neighboring hollow, and close behind him came a slender 
Indian boy, riding without stirrups or saddle, and lashing his 
eager little horse to full speed. Yard after yard he drew 
closer to his gigantic victim, though the bull, with his short 
tail erect and his tongue lolling out a foot from his foaming 
jaws, was straining his unwieldy strength to the utmost. A 
moment more and the boy was close alongside of him. It 
was our friend the Hail-Storm. He dropped the rein on his 
horse's neck and jerked an arrow like lightning from the 
quiver at his shoulder. 

"I tell you," said Reynal, "that in a year's time that boy 
will match the best hunter in the village. There he has 
given it to him! and there goes another! You feel well, now, 
old bull, don't you, with two arrows stuck in your lights? 
There, he has given him another! Hear how the Hail- 
Storm yells when he shoots! Yes, jump at him; try it again, 
old fellow! You may jump all day before you get your horn? 
into that pony!" 

The bull sprang again and again at his assailant, but the 
horse kept dodging with wonderful celerity. At length the 
bull followed up his attack with a furious rush, and the Hail- 
Storm was put to flight, the shaggy monster following close 
behind. The boy clung in his seat like a leech, and secure in 
the speed of his little pony, looked round toward us and 
laughed. In a moment he was again alongside of the bull, who 
was now driven to complete desperation. His eyeballs glared 
through his tangled m.ane, and the blood flew from his mouth 
and nostrils. Thus, still battling with each other, the two 
enemies disappeared over the hill. 



232 The Oregon Trail 

Many of the Indians rode at full gallop toward the spot. 
We followed at a more moderate pace, and soon saw the 
bull lying dead on the side of the hill. The Indians were 
gathered around him, and several knives were already at 
work. These little instruments were plied with such wonder- 
ful address that the tw^isted sinews were cut apart, the pon- 
derous bones fell asunder as if by magic, and in a moment the 
vast carcass was reduced to a heap of bloody ruins. The 
surrounding group of savages offered no very attractive spec- 
tacle to a civilized eye. Seme were cracking the huge thigh- 
bones and devouring the marrow within ; others were cutting 
away pieces of the liver and other approved morsels, and 
swallowing them on the spot with the appetite of wolves. 
The faces of most of them, besmeared with blood from ear 
to ear, looked grim and horrible enough. My friend the 
White Shield proffered me a marrowbone, so skillfully laid 
open that all the rich substance within was exposed to view 
at once. Another Indian held out a large piece of the delicate 
lining of the paunch ; but these courteous offerings I begged 
leave to decline. I noticed one little boy w^ho was very busy 
with his knife about the jaws and throat of the buffalo, from 
which he extracted some morsel of peculiar delicacy. It is but 
fair to say that only certain parts of the animal are considered 
eligible in these extempore banquets. The Indians would 
look with abhorrence on anyone w^ho should partake indis- 
criminately of the newly killed carcass. 

We encamped that night, and marched westward through 
the greater part of the following day. On th"e next morning 
we again resumed our journey. It was the seventeenth of 
July, unless my notebook misleads me. At noon we stopped 
by some pools of rain-w^ater, and in the afternoon again set 
forward. This double movement was contrary to the usual 
practice of the Indians, but all were very anxious to reach the 
hunting ground, kill the necessary number of buffalo, and 
retreat as soon as possible from the dangerous neighborhood. 



The Ogallala Village 233 

I pass by for the present some curious Incidents that occurred 
during these marches and encampments. Late in the after- 
noon of the last mentioned day we came upon the banks of a 
little sandy stream, of which the Indians could not tell the 
name ; for they were very ill acquainted with that part of the 
country. So parched and arid were the prairies around that 
they could not supply grass enough for the horses to feed upon, 
and we were compelled to move farther and farther up the 
stream in search of ground for encampment. The country 
was much wilder than before. The plains were gashed 
with ravines and broken into hollows and steep declivities 
which flanked our course, as, in long scattered array, the 
Indians advanced up the side of the stream. Mene-Seela 
consulted an extraordinary oracle to instruct him where the 
buffalo w^ere to be found. When he with the other chiefs 
sat down on the grass to smoke and converse, as they often 
did during the march, the old man picked up one of those 
enormous black-and-green crickets, which the Dakota call 
by a name that signifies "They who point out the buffalo.'* 
The Root-Diggers, a wretched tribe beyond the mountains, 
turn them to good account by making them into a sort of 
soup, pronounced by certain unscrupulous trappers to be 
extremely rich. Holding the bloated insect respectfully 
between his fingers and thumb, the old Indian looked atten- 
tively at him and inquired, "Tell me, my father, w^here must 
we go tomorrow to find the buffalo?" The cricket tw^isted 
about his long horns in evident embarrassment. At last 
he pointed, or seem.ed to point, them westward. Meiie- 
Seela, dropping him gently on the grass, laughed w^Ith great 
glee, and said that if we w^ent that w^ay in the morning 
we should be sure to kill plenty of game. 

Toward evening we came upon a fresh green meadow, 
traversed by the stream, and deep-set among tall sterile 
bluffs. The Indians descended its steep bank ; and as I waa 
at the rear, I was one of the last to reach this point. Lances 



234 The Oregon Trail 

were glittering, feathers fluttering, and the water below me 
was crowded with men and horses passing through, while 
the meadow beyond was swarming with the restless crowd 
of Indians. The sun was just setting, and poured its sof- 
tened light upon them through an opening in the hills. 

I remarked to Reynal that at last w^e had found a good 
camping-ground. 

"Oh, it is very good," replied he ironically; "especially 
if there is a Snake war party about, and they take it into 
their heads to shoot down at us from the top of these hills. 
It is no plan of mine, camping in such a hole as this!" 

The Indians also seemed apprehensive. High up on 
the top of the tallest bluff, conspicuous in the bright evening 
sunlight, sat a naked warrior on horseback, looking around, 
as it seemed, over the neighboring country; and Raymond 
told me that many of the young men had gone out in differ- 
ent directions as scouts. 

The shadows had reached to the very summit of the 
bluffs before the lodges were erected and the village reduced 
again to quiet and order. A cry was suddenly raised, and 
men, women, and children came running out with animated 
faces, and looked eagerly through the opening on the hills 
by which the stream entered from the westward. I could 
discern afar off some dark, heavy masses passing over the 
sides of a low hill. They disappeared, and then others fol- 
lowed. These were bands of buffalo cows. The hunting 
ground was reached at last, and everything promised well 
for the morrow's sport. Being fatigued and exhausted, I 
went and lay down in Kongra-Tonga's lodge, when Ray- 
mond thrust In his head and called upon me to come and 
see some sport. A number of Indians were gathered, laugh- 
ing, along the line of lodges on the western side of the vil- 
lage, and at some distance I could plainly see in the twilight 
two huge black monsters stalking, heavily and solemnly, 
directly toward us. They were buffalo bulls. The wind 



The Ogallala Village 235 

blew from them to the village, and such was their blindness 
and stupidity that they were advancing upon the enemy 
without the least consciousness of his presence. Raymond 
told me that two young men had hidden themselves with 
guns in a ravine about twenty yards in front of us. The 
two bulls walked slowly on, heavily swinging from side to 
side in their peculiar gait of stupid dignity. They approached 
within four or five rods of the ravine where the Indians lay 
in ambush. Here at last they seemed conscious that some- 
thing was wrong, for they both stopped and stood perfectly 
still, without looking either to the right or to the left. 
Nothing of them was to be seen but tvvo huge black masses 
of shaggy mane, with horns, eyes, and nose in the center, 
and a pair of hoofs visible at the bottom. At last the more 
intelligent of them seem.ed to have concluded that it was 
time to retire. Very slowly, and with an air of the gravest 
and most majestic deliberation, he began to turn round, as 
if he were revolving on a pivot. Little by little his ugly 
brown side was exposed to view. A white smoke sprang out, 
as it were from the ground ; a sharp report came with it. 
The old bull gave a very undignified jump and galloped 
off. At this his comrade wheeled about with considerable 
expedition. The other Indian shot at him from the ravine, 
and then both the bulls were running away at full speed, 
while half the juvenile population of the village raised a 
yell and ran after them. The first bull soon stopped, and 
while the crowd stood looking at him at a respectful dis- 
tance, he reeled and rolled over on his side. The other, 
wounded in a less vital part, galloped away to the hills and 
escaped. 

In half an hour it was totally dark. I lay down to sleep, 
and ill as I was, there was something very animating in the 
prospect of the general hunt that was to take place on the 
morrow. 



CHAPTER XV 

THE HUNTING CAMP 

Long before daybreak the Indians broke up their camp. 
The women of Mene-Seela's lodge were as usual among 
the first that were ready for departure, and I found the old 
man himself sitting by the embers of the decayed fire, over 
which he was warming his withered fingers, as the morning 
was very chilly and damp. The preparations for moving 
were even more confused and disorderly than usual. While 
some families were leaving the ground, the lodges of others 
vrere still standing untouched. At this old Mene-Seela 
grew impatient, and walking out to, the middle of the 
village stood with his robe wrapped close around him, and 
harangued the people in a loud, sharp voice. Now, he said, 
i Vv hen they were on an enemy's hunting grounds, was not the 
time to behave like children ; they ought to be more active 
aid united than ever. His speech had some effect. The 
delinquents took down their lodges and loaded their pack 
horses; and when the sun rose, the last of the men, women, 
and children had left the deserted camp. 

This movement Vv^as made merely for the purpose of 
finding a better and safer position. So we advanced only 
three or four miles up the little stream, before each family 
(•Hssumed its relative place in the great ring of the village, 
and all around the squaws were actively at work in prepar- 
ing the camp. But not a single warrior dismounted from 
his horse. All the men that morning were mounted on 
inferior animals, leading their best horses by a cord or con- 
fiding them to the care of bo5^s. In small parties they began 
to leave the ground and ride rapidly away over the plains 

236 \ 



The Hunting Camp 237 

to the westward. I had taken no food that morning, and not 
being at all ambitious of farther abstinence, I went into my 
host's lodge, which his squaws had erected with wonderful 
celerity, and sat down in the center as a gentle hint that I 
was hungry. A wooden bowl was soon set before me, filled 
with the nutritious preparation of dried meat called pemmi- 
can by the northern voyagers and wasna by the Dakota. 
Taking a handful to break my fast upon, I left the lodge just 
in time to see the last band of hunters disappear over the 
ridge of the neighboring hill. I mounted Pauline and gal- 
loped in pursuit, riding rather by the balance than by any 
muscular strength that remained to me. From the top of the 
hill I could overlook a wide extent of desolate and unbroken 
prairie, over which, far and near, little parties of naked 
horsemen were rapidly passing. I soon came up to the near- 
est, and we had not ridden a mile before all were united 
into one large and compact body. All was haste and eager- 
ness. Each hunter was whipping on his horse as if anxious 
to be the first to reach the game. In such movements among 
the Indians this is always more or less the case; but it was 
especially so in the present instance, because the head chief 
of the village was absent, and there were but few **soldiers," 
a sort of Indian police, who among their other functions 
usually assume the direction of a buffalo hunt. No man 
turned to the right hand or to the left. We rode at a swift 
canter straight forward, uphill and downhill, and through 
the stiff, obstinate growth of the endless wild-sage bushes. 
For an hour and a half the same red shoulders, the same 
long black hair rose and fell with the motion of the horses 
before me. Very little was said, though once I observed an 
old man severely reproving Raymond for having left his 
rifle behind him, when there was some probability of encoun- 
tering an enemy before the day was over. As we galloped 
across the plain thickly set with sage bushes, the foremost 
riders vanished suddenly from sight, as if diving into the 



238 The Creggx Trail 

earth. The arid soil was cracked into a deep ravine. Down 
we all w^ent in succession and galloped in a line along the 
bottom, until we found a point where, one bj^ one, the horses 
could scramble out. Soon after, we came upon a wide 
shallow stream, and as we rode swiftly over the hard sand- 
beds and through the thin sheets of rippling water, many of 
the savage horsemen threw themselves to the ground, knelt 
on the sand, snatched a hasty draught, and leaping back 
again to their seats galloped on again as before. 

Meanwhile scouts kept in advance of the party ; and now 
we began to see them on the ridge of the hills, waving their 
robes in token that buffalo were visible. These however 
proved to be nothing more than old straggling bulls, feeding 
upon the neighboring plains, who would stare for a moment 
at the hostile array and then gallop clumsily off. At length 
we could discern several of these scouts making their signals 
to us at once ; no longer waving their robes boldly from the 
top of the hill, but standing lower down, so that they could 
not be seen from the plains beyond. Game worth pursuing 
bad evidently been discovered. The excited Indians now 
urged forv/ard their tired horses even more rapidly than 
before. Pauline, who was still sick and jaded, began to 
groan heavily, and her yellow sides were darkened w^ith sw^eat. 
As we were crowding together over a lower intervening hill, 
I heard Reynal and Raj-mond shouting to me from the left; 
and looking in that direction, I saw them riding av/ay behind 
a party of about twenty mean-looking Indians. These were 
the relatives of Reynal's squaw Margot, who, not wishing 
to take part in the general hunt, were riding toward a distant 
hollow, where they could discern a small band of buffalo 
which they meant to appropriate to themselves. I answered 
to the 'call by ordering Raymond to turn back and follow 
me. He reluctantly obeyed, though Reynal, who had relied 
on his assistance in skinning, cutting up, and carrying to camp 
the buffalo that he and his party should kill, loudly protested 



The Hunting Camp 239 

and declared that we should see no sport if we went with 
the rest of the Indians. Followed by Raymond I pursued 
the main body of hunters, while Reynal in a great rage 
whipped his horse over the hill after his ragamuffin relatives. 
The Indians, still about a hundred in number, rode in a 
dense body at some distance in advance. They galloped 
forw^ard, and a cloud of dust was flying in the wind behind 
them. I could not overtake them until they had stopped on 
the side of the hill where the scouts were standing. Here 
each hunter sprang in haste from the tired animal which he 
had ridden, and leaped upon the fresh horse that he had 
brought with him. There was not a saddle or a bridle in 
the whole party. A piece of buffalo robe girthed over the 
horse's back served in the place of the one, and a cord of 
twisted hair lashed firmly round his lower jaw answered for 
the other. Eagle feathers were dangling from every mane 
and tail, as insignia of courage and speed. As for the rider, 
he wore no other clothing than a light cincture at his waist, 
and a pair of moccasins. He had a heavy whip, with a 
handle of solid elk-l)orn and a lash of knotted bull-hide, 
fastened to his wrist by an ornamental band. His bow was 
in his hand, and his quiver of otter or panther skin hung at 
his shoulder. Thus equipped, some thirty of the hunters gal- 
loped away toward the left, in order to make a circuit under 
cover of the hills, that the buffalo might be assailed on both 
sides at once. The rest impatiently waited until time enough 
had elapsed for their companions to reach the required posi- 
tion. Then riding upward in a body, we gained the ridge 
of the hill, and for the first time came in sight of the buffalo 
on the plain beyond. 

They w^ere a band of cows, four or five hundred in num- 
ber, who were crowded together near the bank of a wide 
stream that was soaking across the sand-beds of the valley. 
This was a large circular basin, sun-scorched and broken, 
scantily covered with herbage and encompassed with high 



240 The Oregon Trail 

barren hills, from an opening in which we could see our 
allies galloping out upon the plain. The wind blew from 
that direction. The buffalo were aware of their approach, 
and had begun to move, though very slowly and in a compact 
mass. I have no further recollection of seeing the game 
until we were in the midst of them, for as we descended 
the hill other objects engrossed my attention. Numerous old 
bulls were scattered over the plain, and ungallantly deserting 
their charge at our approach, began to wade and plunge 
through the treacherous quicksands of the stream, and gallop 
away toward the hills. One old veteran was struggling 
behind all the rest with one of his forelegs, w^hich had been 
broken by some accident, dangling about uselessly at his 
side. His appearance, as he went shambling along on three 
legs, was so ludicrous that I could not help pausing for a 
moment to look at him. As I came near, he would try to 
rush upon me, nearly throwing himself down at every awk- 
ward attempt. Looking up, I saw the w^hole body of Indians 
full a hundred yards in advance. I lashed Pauline in pur- 
suit and reached them just in time; for as we mingled among 
them, each hunter, as if by a common impulse, violently 
struck his horse, each horse sprang forward convulsively, and 
scattering in the charge in order to assail the entire herd 
at once, we all rushed headlong upon the buffalo. We were 
among them . in an instant. Amid the trampling and the 
j^ells I could see their dark figures running hither and thither 
through clouds of dust, and the horsemen darting in pursuit. 
While w^e were charging on one side, our companions had 
attacked the bewildered and panic-stricken herd on the other. 
The uproar and confusion lasted but for a moment. The 
dust cleared away, and the buffalo could be seen scattering 
as from a common center, flying over the plain singly, or in 
long files and small compact bodies, while behind each fol- 
lowed the Indians, lashing their horses to furious speed, forc- 
ing them close upon their prey, and yelling as they launched 



The Hunting Camp 241 

arrow after arrow into their sides. The large black carcasses 
were strewn thickly over the ground. Here and there 
wounded buffalo were standing, their bleeding sides feathered 
with arrows; and as I rode past them their eyes would glare, 
they would bristle like gigantic cats, and feebly attempt to 
rush up and gore my horse. 

I left camp that morning with a philosophic resolution. 
Neither I nor my horse were at that time fit for such sport, 
and I had determined to remain a quiet spectator; but amid 
the rush of horses and buffalo, the uproar and the dust, I 
found it impossible to sit still ; and as four or five buffalo ran 
past me in a line, I drove Pauline in pursuit. We went 
plunging close at their heels through the water and the quick- 
sands, and clambering the bank, chased them through the 
wild-sage bushes that covered the rising ground beyond. But 
neither her native spirit nor the blows of the knotted bull-hide 
could supply the place of poor Pauline's exhausted strength. 
We could not gain an inch upon the poor fugitives. At last, 
however, they came full upon a ravine too wide to leap over ; 
and as this compelled them to turn abruptly to the left, I con- 
trived to get within ten or twelve yards of the hindmost. At 
this she faced about, bristled angrily, and made a show of 
charging. I shot at her with a large holster pistol, and hit her 
somewhere in the neck. Down she tumbled into the ravine, 
whither her companions had descended before her. I saw 
their dark backs appearing and disappearing as they galloped 
along the bottom; then, one by one, they came scrambling 
out on the other side and ran off as before, the wounded ani- 
mal following with unabated speed. 

Turning back, I saw Raymond coming on his black mule 
to meet me; and as we rode over the field together, we 
counted dozens of carcasses lying on the plain, in the ravines, 
and on the sandy bed of the stream. Far away in the dis- 
tance, horses and buffalo were still scouring along, with little 
clouds of dust rising behind them; and over the sides of the 



242 The Oregon Trail 

hills we could see long files of the frightened animals rapidly 
ascending. The hunters began to return. The boj^s, who 
had held the horses behind the hill, made their appearance, 
and the work of flaying and cutting up began In earnest all 
over the field. I noticed my host Kongra-Tonga beyond the 
stream, just alighting by the side of a cow which he had 
killed. Riding up to him I found him in the act of drawing 
out an arrow, which with the exception of the notch at the 
end, had entirely disappeared in the animal. I asked him to 
give It to me, and I still retain it as a proof, though by no 
means the most striking one that could be offered, of the 
force and dexterity with which the Indians discharged their 
arrows. 

The hides and meat were piled upon the horses, and the 
hunters began to leave the ground. Raymond and I, too, 
getting tired of the scene, set out for the village, riding 
straight across the intervening desert. There was no path, 
and as far as I could see, no landmarks sufficient to guide 
us; but Raymond seemed to have an Instinctive perception 
of the point on the horizon toward which we ought to direct 
our course. Antelope were bounding on all sides, and as 
is always the case In the presence of buffalo, they seemed to 
have lost their natural shyness and timidity. Bands of 
them would run lightly up the rocky declivities, and stand 
gazing down upon us from the summit. At length we could 
distinguish the tall w^hite rocks and the old pine trees that, 
as we well remembered, were just above the site of the 
encampment. Still, we could see nothing of the village 
itself until, ascending a grassy hill, we found the circle of 
lodges, dingy with storms and smoke, standing on the plain 
at our very feet. 

I entered the lodge of my host. His squaw instantly 
brought me food and water, and spread a buffalo robe for 
me to He upon; and being much fatigued, I lay down and fell 
asleep. In about an hour the entrance of Kongra-Tonga, 



The Hunting Camp 243 

with his arms smeared with blood to the elbows, awoke me. 
He sat down in his usual seat on the left side of the lodge. 
His squaw gave him a vessel of water for washing, set 
before him a bowl of boiled meat, and as he was eating 
pulled off his bloody moccasins and placed fresh ones on his 
feet; then outstretching his limbs, m}^ host composed him- 
self to sleep. 

And now the hunters, two or three at a time, began to 
come rapidly in, and each, consigning his horse to the squaws, 
entered his lodge with the air of a man whose day's work 
was done. The squaws flung down the load from the 
burdened horses, and vast piles of meat and hides were soon 
accumulated before every lodge. By this time it was darken- 
ing fast, and the whole village was illumined by the glare 
of fires blazing all around. All the squaws and children 
were gathered about the piles of meat, exploring them in 
search of the daintiest portions. Some of these they roasted 
on sticks before the fires, but often they dispensed with this 
superfluous operation. Late into the night the fires were 
still glowing upon the groups of feasters engaged in this 
savage banquet around them. 

Several hunters sat down by the fire in Kongra-Tonga's 
lodge to talk over the day's exploits. Among the rest, Mene- 
Seela came in. Though he must have seen full eighty win- 
ters, he had taken an active share in the day's sport. He 
boasted that he had killed two cows that morning, and would 
have killed a third if the dust had not blinded him so that he 
had to drop his bow and arrows and press both hands against 
his eyes to stop the pain. The firelight fell upon his wrinkled 
face and shriveled figure as he sat telling his story with such 
inimitable gesticulation that every man in the lodge broke 
into a laugh. 

Old Mene-Seela was one of the few Indians in the vil- 
lage with whom I would have trusted myself alone without 
suspicion, and the only one from whom I would have received 



244 The Oregon Trail 

a gift or a service without the certainty that it proceeded 
from an interested motive. He was a great friend of the 
whites. He liked to be in their society, and was very vain 
of the favors he had received from them. He told me one 
afternoon, as we w^ere sitting together in his son's lodge, 
that he considered the beaver and the whites the wisest people 
on earth ; indeed, he was convinced they were the same ; and 
an incident which had happened to him long before had 
assured him of this. So he began the following story, and as 
the pipe passed in turn to him, Reynal availed himself of these 
interruptions to translate what had preceded. But the old 
man accompanied his words with such admirable pantomiim-C 
that translation was hardly necessar)^ 

He said that when he was very young, and had never 
5et seen a w^hite man, he and three or four of his companions 
were out on a beaver hunt, and he crawled into a large 
beaver lodge to examine w^hat w^as there. Sometimes he was 
creeping on his hands and knees, sometimes he was obliged 
to swim, and sometimes to lie flat on his face and drag him- 
self along. In this way he crawled a great distance under- 
ground. It was very dark, cold, and close, so that at last he 
was almost suffocated, and fell into a swoon. When he 
began to recover, he could just distinguish the voices of his 
companions outside, w^ho had given him up for lost and were 
singing his death song. At first he could see nothing, but 
soon he discerned something white before him, and at length 
plalnl}^ distinguished three people, entirely w^hlte, one man 
and two women, sitting at the edge of a black pool of water. 
He became alarmed and thought it high time to retreat. 
Having succeeded after great trouble In reaching daylight 
again, he went straight to the spot directly above the pool of 
water where he had seen the three mysterious beings. Here 
he beat a hole with his war club In the ground and sat down 
to watch. In a m.oment the nose of an old male beaver 
appeared at the opening. ]Mene-SeeIa instantly seized him 



The Hunting Camp ^45 

and dragged him up, when two other beavers, both females, 
thrust out their heads, and these he served in the same way. 
"These," continued the old man, ''must have been the three 
white people whom I saw sitting at the edge of the water." 

Mene-Seela was the grand depository of the legends and 
traditions of the village. I succeeded, however, in getting 
from him only a few fragments. Like all Indians, he was 
excessively superstitious, and continually saw some reason for 
withholding his stories. "It is a bad thing," he w^ould say, 
"to tell the tales in summer. Stay with us till next winter, 
and I will tell you everything I know^; but now our war 
parties are going out, and our young men will be killed if I 
sit down to tell stories before the frost begins." 

But to leave this digression. We remained encamped 
on this spot five days, during three of which the hunters 
were at work incessantly, and immense quantities of meat 
and hides were brought in. Great alarm, however, prevailed 
in the village. All were on the alert. The young men were, 
ranging through the country as scouts, and the old men 
paid careful attention to omens and prodigies, and especially 
to their dreams. In order to convey to the enemy (who, 
if they were in the neighborhood, must inevitably have known 
of our presence) the impression that we were constantly on 
the watch, piles of sticks and stones were erected on all the 
surrounding hills, in such a manner as to appear at a distance 
like sentinels. Often, even to this hour, that scene will rise 
before my mind like a visible reality : the tall white rocks ; the 
old pine trees on their summits ; the sandy stream that ran 
along their bases and half encircled the village ; and the wild- 
sage bushes, with their dull green hue and their medicinal 
odor, that covered all the neighboring declivities. Hour after 
hour the squaws w^ould pass and repass with their vessels of 
water between the stream and the lodges. For the most part 
no one was to be seen in the camp but women and children, 
two or three superannuated old men, and a few lazy and 



246 The Oregon Trail 

worthless young ones. These, together with the dogs, now 
grown fat and good-natured with the abundance in the camp, 
were its only tenants. Still it presented a busy and bustling 
scene. In all quarters the meat, hung on cords of hide, was 
drying in the sun, and around the lodges the squaws, young 
and old, were laboring on the fresh hides that were stretched 
upon the ground, scraping the hair from one side and the 
still adhering flesh from the other, and rubbing into them the, 
brains of the buffalo in order to render them soft and pliant. 

In mercy to myself and my horse, I never went out with 
the hunters after the first da^^ Of late, however, I had been 
gaining strength rapidly, as was always the case upon every 
respite of my disorder. I was soon able to walk with ease. 
Raymond and I w^ould go out upon the neighboring prairies 
to shoot antelope, or sometimes to assail straggling buffalo, 
on foot, an attempt in which we met with rather indifferent 
success. To kill a bull with a rifle-ball is a difficult art, in 
the secret of which I was as yet very imperfectly initiated. As 
I camxe out of Kongra-Tonga's lodge one morning, Reynal 
called to me from the opposite side of the village, and asked 
me over to breakfast. The breakfast was a substantial one. 
It consisted of the rich, juicy hump-ribs of a fat cow, a repast 
absolutely unrivaled. It was roasting before the fire, impaled 
upon a stout stick which Reynal took up and planted in the 
ground before his lodge ; when he, with Raymond and myself, 
taking our seats around it, unsheathed our knives and assailed 
it w^ith good will. In spite of all medical experience, this 
solid fare, without bread or salt, seemed to agree with me 
admirably. 

"We shall have strangers here before night," said Reynal. 

"How do you know that?" I asked. 

"I dreamed so. I am as good at dreaming as an Indian. 
There is the Hail-Storm ; he dreamed the same thing, and 
he and his crony, the Rabbit, have gone out on discovery." 

I laughed at Reynal for his credulity, went over to my. 



The PIunting Camp 24V 

host's lodge, took down my rifle, walked out a mile or two on 
the prairie, saw an old bull standing alone, crawled up a 
ravine, shot him, and saw him escape. Then, quite exhausted 
and rather ill-humored, I walked back to the village. By 
a strange coincidence, Reynal's prediction had been verified ; 
for the first persons w^hom I saw were the two trappers, 
Rouleau and Saraphin, coming to meet me. These men, 
as the reader may possibly recollect, had left our party about 
a fortnight before. They had been trapping for a while 
among the Black Hills, and were now on their way to the 
Rocky Mountains, intending in a day or two to set out for the 
neighboring Medicine Bow. They were not the most ele- 
gant or refined of companions, 5'et they miade a very welcome 
addition to the limited society of the village. For the rest of 
that day we lay smoking and talking in Reynal's lodge. This 
indeed was no better than a little hut, made of hides stretched 
on poles, and entirely open in front. It was well carpeted 
with soft buffalo robes, and here we remained, sheltered from 
the sun, surrounded by various domestic utensils of Madame 
Margot's household. All w^as quiet In the village. Though 
the hunters had not gone out that day, they lay sleeping In 
their lodges, and most of the women w^ere silently engaged In 
their heavy tasks. A few young miCn were playing at a lazy 
game of ball in the center of the village; and w^hen they 
became tired, some girls supplied their place with a more 
boisterous sport. At a little distance among the lodges, som.e 
children and half-grown squaws were playfully tossing up 
one of their number In a buffalo robe, an exact counterpart 
of the ancient pastime from which Sancho Panza^ suffered 
so much. Farther out on the prairie, a host of little naked 
boys were roaming about, engaged In various rough games 
or pursuing birds and ground-squirrels with their bows and 

^The squire of Cervantes's Don Quixote, noted for his shrewdness and his 
proverbial sayings. His master having refused to pay for accommodations at an 
inn, nine "arch, merry, unlucky, and frolicsome fellows" tossed Sancho in a 
blanket by way of revenge. See Don Quixote, Bk. Ill, Ch. Ill . 



248 Tpie Oregon Trail 

arrows; and woe to the unhappy little animals that fell into 
their merciless, torture-loving hands ! A squaw from the next 
lodge, a notable active housewife named Weah Washtay, or 
the good woman, brought us a large bowl of wasna, and 
went into an ecstasy of delight when I presented her with a 
green glass ring, such as I usually w^ore with a view to similar 
occasions. 

The sun went down and half the sky was growing fiery 
red, reflected on the little stream as it wound away among 
the sage bushes. Some 5 oung men left the village, and soon 
returned driving in before them all the horses, hundreds in 
number and of ever}'- size, age, and color. The hunters came 
out, and each securing those that belonged to him, examined 
their condition, and tied them fast by long cords to stakes 
driven in front of his lodge. It was half an hour before the 
bustle subsided and tranquillity was restored again. By this 
time it was nearly dark. Kettles were hung over the blazing 
fires, around which the squaws were gathered with their 
children, laughing and talking merrily. A circle of a different 
kind w^as formed in the center of the village. This was com- 
posed of the old men and warriors of repute, who with their 
white buffalo robes drau'n close around their shoulders, sat 
together, and as the pipe passed from hand to hand, their 
conversation had not a particle of the gravity and reserve 
usually ascribed to Indians. I sat down with them as usual. 
I had in my hand half a dozen squibs and serpents, w^hich I 
had made one day when encamped upon Laramie Creek, out 
of gunpowder and charcoal, and the leaves of "Fremont's 
Expedition"^ rolled round a stout lead-pencil. I waited till 
I contrived to get hold of the large piece of burning bois de 
vache which the Indians kept by them on the ground for 
lighting their pipes. With this I lighted all the fireworks 
at once, and tossed them whizzing and sputtering into the 

'John C. Fremont's Report of the Exploring Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, 
1842, and to Oregon and North California, 184J-44, published in 1845. 



The Hunting Camp 249 

air, over the heads of the company. They all jumped up 
and ran off with yelps of astonishment and consternation. 
After a moment or two, they ventured to come back one by 
one, and some of the boldest, picking up the cases of burnt 
paper that were scattered about, examined them with eager 
curiosity to discover their mysterious secret. From that time 
forward I enjoyed great repute as a "fire-medicine." 

The camp was filled with the low hum of cheerful 
voices. There were other sounds, however, of a very dif- 
ferent kind ; for frorr i large lodge, lighted up like a gigantic 
lantern by the blazing fire within, came a chorus of dismal 
cries and wailings, long drawn out like the howling of 
wolves, and a woman, almost naked, was crouching close 
outside, crying violently and gashing her legs with a knife 
till they were covered with blood. Just a year before, a 
young man belonging to this family had gone out with a 
war party and had been slain by the enemy, and his relatives 
were thus lamenting his loss. Still other sounds might be 
heard ; loud earnest cries often repeated from amid the 
gloom, at a distance beyond the village. They proceeded 
from some young men who, being about to set out in a few 
da^^s on a warlike expedition, were standing at the top of a 
hill calling on the Great Spirit to aid them in their enter- 
prise. While I was listening. Rouleau, with a laugh on his 
careless face, called to me and directed my attention to 
another quarter. In front of the lodge where Weah Wash- 
tay lived another squaw was standing, angrily scolding an 
old yellow dog, who lay on the ground with his nose resting 
between his paws and his ej'es turned sleepily up to her face, 
as if he were pretending to give respectful attention, but 
resolved to fall asleep as soon as it w^as all over, 

"You ought to be ashamed of 5^ourself!" said the old 
woman. "I have fed you well, and taken care of you ever 
since you were small and blind, and could only crawl about 
and squeal a little, instead of howling as you do now. 



250 The Oregon Trai*l 

When you grew old, I said you were a good dog. You 
"were strong and gentle when the load was put on j^our 
back, and j'ou never ran among the feet of the horses when 
we were all traveling together over the prairie. But you 
had a bad heart! Whenever a rabbit jumped out of the 
bushes, you were always the first to run after him and lead 
away all the other dogs behind you. You ought to have 
know^n that it was very dangerous to act so. When you had 
got far out on the prairie, and no one was near to help you, 
perhaps a w^olf would jump out of the ravine; and then 
what could you do? You would certainly have been killed, 
for no dog can fight well with a load on his back. Only 
three days ago you ran off in that way, and turned over the 
bag of wooden pins with which I used to fasten up the front 
of the lodge. Look up there, and you will see that it is all 
flapping open. And now to-night you have stolen a great 
piece of fat meat which was roasting before the fire for my chil- 
dren. I tell you, you have a bad heart, and you must die!" 

So saying, the squaw went into the lodge, and coming 
out with a large stone mallet, killed the unfortunate dog at 
one blow. This speech is worthy of notice as illustrating a 
curious characteristic of the Indians: the ascribing intelli- 
gence and a power of understanding speech to the inferior 
animals, to whom, indeed, according to many of their tra- 
ditions, they are linked in close affinity, and they even claim 
the honor of a lineal descent from bears, wolves, deer, or 
tortoises. 

As it grew late, and the crowded population began to 
disappear, I too walked across the village to the lodge of 
my host, Kongra-Tonga. As I entered I saw^ him, by the 
flickering blaze of the fire in the center, reclining half asleep 
in his usual place. His couch was by no m.eans an uncom- 
fortable one. It consisted of soft buffalo robes laid together 
on the ground, and a pillow made of whitened deerskin 
stuffed with feathers and ornamented with beads. At his 



Tpie Hunting Camp 251 

back was a light framework of poles and slender reeds, 
against which he could lean with ease when in a sitting 
posture; and at the top of it, just above his head, his bow 
and quiver were hanging. His squaw, a laughing, broad- 
faced woman, apparently had not yet completed her domestic 
arrangements, for she was bustling about the lodge, pulling 
over the utensils and the bales of dried meats that were 
ranged carefully round it. Unhappily, she and her partner 
were not the only tenants of the dwelling, for half a dozen 
children were scattered about, sleeping in every imaginable 
posture. My saddle was in its place at the head of the lodge 
and a buffalo robe was spread on the ground before it. 
Wrapping m3^self in my blanket I lay down, but had I not 
been extremely fatigued the noise in the next lodge would 
have prevented my sleeping. There was the monotonous 
thumiping of the Indian drum, mixed with occasional sharp 
3'ells, and a chorus chanted by twenty voices. A grand scene 
of gambling was going forward w^itli all the appropriate 
formalities. ThiC plaj^rs were staking on the chance issue 
of the game their ornaments, their horses, and as the excite- 
micnt rose, their garments, and even their w^eapons; for des- 
perate gambling is not confined to the hells of Paris. The 
men of the plains and the forests no less resort to it as a 
violent but grateful relief to the tedious monotony of their 
lives, which alternate between fierce excitement and listless 
inaction. I fell asleep with the dull notes of the drum still 
sounding on my ear, but these furious orgies lasted w^ithout 
intermission till daylight. I was soon awakened by one of 
the children crawling over me, w^hile another larger one 
was tugging at my blanket and nestling himself in a very 
disagreeable proximity. I immediately repelled these advances 
by punching the heads of these miniature savages with a 
short stick which I alwaj^s kept by me for the purpose; and 
as sleeping half the day and eating much mor,e than is good 
for them m:akes them extremely restless, this operation usu- 



% 

252 The Oregon Trail 

ally had to be repeated four or five times in the course of the 
night. M)^ host himself was the author of another most 
formidable annoyance. All these Indians, and he among 
the rest, think themselves bound to the constant performance 
of certain acts as the condition pn which their success in life 
depends, whether in war, love, hunting, or any other employ- 
ment. These "medicines," as they are called in that country, 
which are usually communicated in dreams, are often absurd 
enough. Some Indians will strike the butt of the pipe 
against the ground every time they smoke ; others will insist 
that everything they say shall be interpreted by contraries; 
and Shaw once met an old man who conceived that all 
would be lost unless he compelled every white man he met to 
drink a bowl of cold water. My host w^as particularly 
unfortunate in his allotment. The Great Spirit had told 
him in a dream that he must sing a certain song in the mid- 
dle of every night ; and regularly at about twelve o'clock 
his dismal monotonous chanting would awaken me, and I 
would see him seated bolt upright on his couch, going through 
his dolorous performances w^ith a most business-like air. 
There were other voices of the night still more inharmonious. 
Twice or thrice, between sunset and dawn, all the dogs in 
the village, and there were hundreds of them, would bay 
and yelp in chorus; a most horrible clamor, resembling no 
sound that I have ever heard, except perhaps the frightful 
howling, of wolves that we used sometimes to hear long 
afterward when descending the Arkar.sas on the trail of 
General Kearny's army. The canine uproar is, if possible, 
more discordant than that of the Avolves. Heard at a dis- 
tance, slowly rising on the night, it has a strange unearthly 
effect, and w^ould fearfully haunt the dreams of a nervous 
m.an ; but w^hen )^ou are sleeping in the midst of it the din 
is outrageous. One long loud howl from the next lodge 
perhaps begins it, and voice after voice takes up the sound 
till it passes around the whole circumference of the village, 



The Hunting Camp 253 

and the air is filled with confused and discordant cries at 
once fierce and mournful. It lasts but for a moment and 
then dies away into silence. 

Morning came, and Kongra-Tonga, mounting his horse, 
rode out with the hunters. It may not be amiss to glance at 
him for an instant in his domestic character of husband and 
father. Both he and his squaw, like most other Indians, 
were very fond of their children, whom they indulged to 
excess, and never punished except in extreme cases, when 
they would throw a bowl of cold water over them. Their 
offspring became sufficiently undutiful and disobedient under 
this system of education, which tends not a little to foster 
that wild idea of liberty and utter intolerance of restraint 
which lie at the very foundation of the Indian character. It 
would be hard to find a fonder father than Kongra-Tonga. 
There was one urchin in particular, rather less than two 
feet high, to w^hom he was exceedingly attached; and some*- 
times spreading a buffalo robe in the lodge, he would seat 
himself upon it, place his small favorite upright before him, 
and chant in a low tone some of the words used as an accom- 
paniment to the war dance. The little fellow, who could 
just manage to balance himself by stretching out both arms, 
would lift his feet and turn slowly round and round in time 
to his father's music, while my host would laugh with delight, 
and look smiling up into my face to see if I were admiring 
this precocious performance of his offspring. In his capacity 
of husband he was somewhat less exemplary. The squaw 
who lived in the lodge with him had been his partner for 
many years. She took good care of his children and his 
household concerns. He liked her well enough, and as far 
as I could see, they never quarreled ; but all his warmer 
affections were reserved for younger and more recent favor- 
ites. Of these he had at present only one, who lived in a 
lodge apart from his ow^n. One day while in his camp he 
became displeased with her, pushed her out, threw after her 



254 The Oregon Trail 

her ornaments, dresses, and everything she had, and told 
her to go home to her father. Having consummated this 
summary divorce, for which he could show good reasons, he 
came back, seated himself in his usual place, and began to 
smoke with an air of the utmost tranquillity and self-satisfac- 
tion. 

I was sitting in the lodge with him on that very after- 
noon, when I felt some curiosity to learn the history of the 
/lumerous scars that appeared on his naked bodj^ Of some 
of them, however, I did not venture to inquire, for I already 
tinderstood their origin. Each of his arms was marked as if 
deeply gashed with a knife at regular intervals, and there 
w^ere other scars also, of a different character, on his back 
and on either breast. They were the traces of those formid- 
able tortures which these Indians, in commion with a few 
other tribes, inflict upon themselves' at certain seasons; in 
part, it may be, to gain the glory of courage and endurance, 
but chiefly as an act of self-sacrifice to secure the favor of 
the Great Spirit. The scars upon the breast and back were 
produced by running through the flesh strong splints of 
wood, to which ponderous buffalo-skulls are fastened by 
cords of hide, and the wretch runs forward with all his 
strength, assisted by two companions, who take hold of each 
arm, until the flesh tears apart and the heavy loads are left 
behind. Others of Kongra-Tonga's scars were the result 
of accidents; but he had m.any which he received in war. 
He was one of the most noted warriors in the village. In 
the course of his life he had slain, as he boasted to me, four- 
teen men ; and though, like other Indians, he was a great 
braggart and utterly regardless of truth, yet in this state- 
ment common report bore him out. Being much flattered by 
my Inquiries, he told me tale after tale, true or false, of his 
w'arlike exploits ; and there was one among the rest illustrat- 
mg the worst features of the Indian character too well for 
me to omit it. Pointing out of the opening of the lodge 



The Ho>:ting Camp 255 

toward the Medicine-Bow Mountain, not many miles dis- 
tant, he said that he was there a few summers ago with a 
war party of his young men. Here they found two Snake 
Indians, hunting. They shot one of them with arrows and 
chased the other up the side of the mountain till they sur- 
rounded him on a level place, and Kongra-Tonga himself, 
jumping forward among the trees, seized him by the arm. 
Two of his j^oung men then ran up and held him fast while 
he scalped him alive. They then built a great fire, and cut- 
ting the tendons of their captive's wrists and feet, threw him 
in, and held him down with long poles until he was burnt to 
death. He garnished his story with a great many descrip- 
tive particulars much too revolting to mention. His features 
were remarkably mild and open, without the fierceness of 
expression common among these Indians; and as he detailed 
these devilish cruelties, he looked up into my face with the 
same air of earnest simplicity which a little child would wear 
in relating to its mother some anecdote of its youthful experi- 
ence. 

Old Mene-Seela's lodge could offer another illustration 
of the ferocity of Indian warfare. A bright-eyed, active 
little boy w^as living there. He had belonged to a village of 
the Gros Ventre Blackfeet, a small but bloody and treacher- 
ous band in close alliance with the Arapahoes. About a 
year before, Kongra-Tonga and a party of warriors had 
found about twenty lodges of these Indians upon the plains 
a little to the eastward of our present camp; and surround- 
ing them in the night, they butchered m.en, women, and 
children without mercy, preserving only this little boy alive. 
He was adopted into the old man's family, and was now 
fast becoming identified with the Ogallala children, among 
whom he mingled on equal terms. There was also a Crow- 
warrior in the village, a man of gigantic stature and most 
symmetrical proportions. Having been taken prisoner many 
years before and adopted by a squaw in place of a son whom 



256 The Oregon Trail 

she had lost, he had forgotten his old national antipathies, 
and was now both in act and inclination an Ogaliala. 

It will be remembered that the scheme of the grand war- 
like combination against the Snake and Crow Indians origi- 
nated in this village; and though this plan had fallen to the 
ground, the embers of the martial ardor continued to glow 
brightly. Eleven young men had prepared themselves to go 
out against the enemy. The fourth day of our stay in this 
camp was fixed upon for their departure. At the head of this 
party was a well-built, active little Indian called the White 
Shield, whom I had always noticed for the great neatness 
of his dress and appearance. His lodge, too, though not a 
large one, was the best in the village, his squaw was one 
of the prettiest girls, and altogether his dwelling presented 
a complete model of an Ogaliala domestic establishment. I 
was often a visitor there, for the White Shield being rather 
partial to white men, used to invite me to continual feasts 
at all hours of the day. Once when the substantial part of 
the entertainment was concluded, and he and I were seated 
cross-legged on a buffalo robe smoking together very ami- 
cably, he took down his warlike equipments, which were 
hanging around the lodge, and displayed them with great 
pride and self-importance. Among the rest was a most superb 
headdress of feathers. Taking this from its case, he put it 
on and stood before me, as if conscious of the gallant air 
which it gave to his dark face and his vigorous, graceful 
figure. He told me that upon it were the feathers of three 
war-eagles, equal in value to the same number of good 
horses. He took up also a shield gayly painted and hung 
with feathers. The effect of these barbaric ornaments was 
admirable, for they were arranged with no little skill and 
taste. His quiver was made of the spotted skirt of a small 
panther, such as are common among the Black Hills, from 
which the tail and distended claws were still allowed to hang. 
The White Shield concluded his entertainment in a manner 



The Hunting Camp 257 

characteristic of an Indian. He begged of me a little powder 
and ball, for he had a gun as well as bow and arrows ; but 
this I was obliged to refuse, because I had scarcely enough 
for my own use. Making him, however, a parting present 
of a paper of vermilion, I left him apparently quite con- 
tented. 

Unhappily on the next morning the White Shield took 
cold and was attacked with a violent inflammation of the 
throat. Immediately he seemed to lose all spirit, and though 
before no warrior in the village had borne himself more 
proudly, he now moped about from lodge to lodge with a 
forlorn and dejected air. At length he came and sat down, 
close wrapped in his robe, before the lodge of Reynal, but 
when he found that neither he nor I knew how to relieve 
him, he arose and stalked over to one of the medicine-men 
of the village. This old imposter thumped him for some 
time with both fists, howled and yelped over him, and beat 
a drum close to his ear to expel the evil spirit that had taken 
possession of him. This vigorous treatment failing of the 
desired effect, the White Shield w^ithdrew to his own lodge, 
where he lay disconsolate for some hours. Making his 
appearance once more in the afternoon, he again took his seat 
on the ground before Reynal's lodge, holding his throat with 
his hand. For some time he sat perfectly silent with his 
eyes fixed mournfully on the ground. At last he began to 
speak in a low tone : 

*'I am a brave man," he said; "all the young men think 
me a great warrior, and ten of them are ready to go wath 
me to the war. I will go and show them the enemy. Last 
summer the Snakes killed my brother. I cannot live unless 
I revenge his death. To-morrow w^e will set out and I will 
take their scalps." 

The White Shield, as he expressed this resolution, seemed 
to have lost all the accustomed fire and spirit of his look, 
and hung his head as if in a fit of despondency. 



258 The Oregon Trail 

As I was sitting that evening at one of the fires, I saw 
him arra3^ed in his splendid war dress, his cheeks painted 
with vermilion, leading his favorite war horse to the front of 
his lodge. He mounted and rode round the village, singing 
his war song in a loud hoarse voice amid the shrill acclama- 
tions of the women. Then dismounting, he remained for 
some minutes prostrate upon the ground, as if in an act of 
supplication. On the following morning I looked in vain 
for the departure of the warriors. All was quiet in the vil- 
lage until late in the forenoon, when the White Shield, 
issuing from his lodge, came and seated himself in his old 
place before us. Reynal asked him why he had not gone out 
to find the enemy. 

"I cannot go," answered the White Shield in a dejected 
voice. "I have given m.y vi^ar arrow^s to the Meneaska." 

"You have only given him two of your arrows," said 
Reynal. "If you ask him, he will give them back again." 

For some time the White Shield said nothing. At last 
he spoke in a gloomy tone : 

"One of my young men has had bad dreams. The spirits 
of the dead came and threw stones at him in his sleep." 

If such a dream had actually taken place it might have 
broken up this or any other war party, but both Reynal and I 
were convinced at the time that it was a mere fabrication 
to excuse his remaining at home. 

The White Shield was a warrior of noted prowess. Very 
probably he would have received a mortal wound without 
the show of pain, and endured without flinching the worst 
tortures that an enemy could inflict upon him. The whole 
power of an Indian's nature would be summoned to encoun- 
ter such a trial ; every influence of his education from child- 
hood would have prepared him for it ; the cause of his suffer- 
ing would have been visibly and palpably before him, and his 
spirit would rise to set his enemy at defiance, and gain the 
highest glory of a warrior by meeting death with fortitude. 



The Hunting Camp 259 

But when he feels himself attacked by a mysterious evil, 
before whose insidious assaults his manhood is wasted and 
his strength drained away, when he can see no enemy to resist 
and defy, the boldest warrior falls prostrate at once. He 
believes that a bad spirit has taken possession of him, or that 
he is the victim of some charm. When suffering from a pro- 
tracted disorder, an Indian will often abandon himself to his 
supposed destiny, pine away and die, the victim of his own 
imagination. The same effect will often follow from a series 
of calamities, or a long run of ill success, and the sufferer 
has been known to ride into the midst of an enemy's camp, 
or attack a grizzly bear single-handed, to get rid of a life 
which he supposed to lie under the doom of misfortune. 

Thus after all his fasting, dreaming, and calling upon the 
Great Spirit, the White Shield's war party was pitifully 
broken up. 



CHAPTER XVI 

THE TRAPPERS 

In speaking of the Indians, I have almost forgotten two 
bold adventurers of another race, the trappers Rouleau and 
Saraphin. These men were bent on a most hazardous enter- 
prise. A day's journey to the iwestward was the country over 
which the Arapahoes are accustomed to range, and for which 
the two trappers were on the point of setting out. These 
Arapahoes, of whom Shaw and I afterward fell in with a 
large village, are ferocious barbarians, of a most brutal and 
wolfish aspect, and of late they had declared themselves ene- 
mies to the whites and threatened death to the first who 
should venture within their territory. The occasion of the 
declaration was as follows: 

In the previous spring, 1845, Colonel Kearny left Fort 
Leavenworth with several companies of dragoons, and march- 
ing with extraordinary celerity reached Fort Laramie, 
whence he passed along the foot of the mountains to Bent's 
Fort,^ and then, turning eastward again, returned to the point 
from whence he set out. While at Fort Laramie, he sent a 
part of his command as far westward as Sweetwater,^ while 
he himself remained at the fort and dispatched messages 
to the surrounding Indians to meet him there in council. 
Then for the first time the tribes of that vicinity saw the white 
warriors, and, as might have been expected, they were lost in 
astonishment at their regular order, their gay attire, the 
completeness of their martial equipment, and the great size 

^Bent's Fort, or Fort William, completed in 1832, was located about twelve 
miles northeast of the present Las Animas, Colorado, where the Santa Fe trail 
crossed the Arkansas River. During the Mexican War it was the headquarters 
of the commissary department of the United States forces. 

'Sweetwater River, Wyoming. 

2'SO 



The Trappers 261 

and power of their horses. Among the rest, the Arapahoes 
came in considerable numbers to the fort. They had latel)^ 
committed numerous acts of outrage, and Colonel Kearny 
threatened that if they killed any more white men he would 
turn loose his dragoons upon them, and annihilate their 
whole nation. In the evening, to add effect to his speech, he 
ordered a howitzer to be fired and a rocket to be thrown up. 
Many of the Arapahoes fell prostrate on the ground, while 
others ran away screaming with amazement and terror. On 
the following day they withdrew to their mountains, con- 
founded with awe at the appearance of the dragoons, at their 
big gun which went off twice at one shot, and the fiery 
messenger which they had sent up to the Great Spirit. For 
many months they remained quiet, and did no further mis- 
chief. At length, just before we came into the country, one 
of them, by an act of the basest treachery, killed two white 
men. Boot and May, who were trapping among the moun- 
tains. For this act it w^as impossible to discover a motive. 
It seemed to spring from one of those inexplicable impulses 
which often actuate Indians and appear no better than the 
mere outbreaks of native ferocit)^ No sooner was the mur- 
der committed than the w^hole tribe were in extreme con- 
sternation. They expected every day that the avenging 
dragoons would arrive, little thinking that a desert of nine 
hundred miles in extent lay between the latter and their 
mountain fastnesses. A large deputation of them came to 
Fort Laramie, bringing a valuable present of horses in com- 
pensation for the lives of the murdered men. These Bor- 
deaux refused to accept. They then asked him if he would 
be satisfied with their delivering up the murderer himself; 
but he declined this offer also. The Arapahoes went back 
more terrified than ever. Weeks passed away, and still no 
dragoons appeared. A result followed which all those best 
acquainted wnth Indians had predicted. They conceived that 
fear had prevented Bordeaux from accepting their gifts, and 



262 The Oregon Trail 

that thej^ had nothing to apprehend from the vengeance of the 
whites. From terror they rose to the height of insolence and 
presumption. They called the white men cowards and old 
women ; and a friendly Dakota came to Fort Laramie and 
reported that they were determined to kill the first of the 
white dogs whom they could lay hands on. 

Had a military officer, intrusted with suitable powers, 
been stationed at Fort Laramie, and having accepted the offer 
of the Arapahoes to deliver up the murderer, had ordered him 
to be immediately led out and shot in presence of his tribe, 
they would have been awed into tranquillity and much 
danger and calamity averted ; but now the neighborhood of 
the Medicine-Bow Mountain and the region beyond.it was a 
scene of extreme peril. Old Mene-Seela, a true friend of 
the whites, and many other of the Indians gathered about the 
two trappers, and vainly endeavored to turn them from their 
purpose; but Rouleau and Saraphin only laughed at the dan- 
ger. On the morning preceding that on which they were to 
leave the camp, we could all discern faint white columns of 
smoke rising against the dark base of the Medicine-Bow. 
Scouts wTre out immediately, and reported that these pro- 
ceeded from an Arapahoe camp, abandoned only a few hours 
before. Still the two trappers continued their preparations 
for departure. 

Saraphin was a tall, powerful fellow, with a sullen and 
sinister countenance. His rifle had very probably drawn 
other blood than that of buffalo or even Indians. Rouleau 
had a broad ruddy face, marked with as few traces of thought 
or of care as a child's. His figure v/as remarkably square and 
strong, but the first joints of both his feet were frozen off, 
and his horse had lately thrown and trampled upon him, by 
which he had been severely injured in the chest. But nothing 
could check his inveterate propensity for laughter and gaj^ety. 
He went all day rolling about the camp on his stumps of 
feet, talking and singing and frolicking with the Indian 



The Trappers 263 

i\'omen as they were engaged at their work. In fact Rou- 
leau had an unlucky partiality for squaws. He always had 
one whom he must needs bedizen with beads, ribbons, and 
all the finery of an Indian wardrobe. . . . If at any time 
he had not lavished the whole of the precarious profits of his 
vocation upon his dark favorite, he always devoted the rest 
to feasting his comrades. If liquor was not to be had — and 
this was usually the case — strong coffee was substituted. As 
the men of that region are by no means remarkable for 
providence or self-restraint, whatever was set before them on 
these occasions, however extravagant in price or enormous in 
quantity, was sure to be disposed of at one sitting. Like other 
trappers, Rouleau's life was one of contrast and varietj^ It 
was only at certain seasons, and for a limited time, that he 
was absent on his expeditions. For the rest of the year he 
would be lounging about the fort, or encamped with his 
friends in its vicinity^ lazily hunting or enjoying all the lux- 
ury of inaction ; but when once in pursuit of the beaver, he 
was involved in extreme privations and desperate perils. 
When in the midst of his game and his enemies, hand and 
foot, eye and ear, are incessantly active. Frequently he must 
content himself with devouring his evening meal uncooked, 
lest the light of his fire should attract the eyes of some 
wandering Indian ; and sometimes having made his rude 
repast, he must leave his fire still blazing and withdraw to 
a distance under cover of the darkness, that his disappointed 
enemy, drawn thither by the light, may find his victim gone 
and be unable to trace his footsteps in the gloom. This is 
the life led by scores of men in the Rocky Mountains and 
their vicinity. I once met a trapper whose breast was marked 
with the scars of six bullets and arrows, one of his arms 
broken by a shot and one of his knees shattered; yet still, 
with the undaunted metal of New England, from which 
part of the country he had come, he continued to follow his 
perilous occupation. To some of the children of cities it may 



264 The Oregon Trail 

seem strange that men with no object in view should continue 
to follow a life of such hardship and desperate adventure; 
yet there is a mysterious, restless charm in the basilisk eye 
of danger, and few men perhaps remain long in that wild 
region without learning to love peril for its own sake, and to 
laugh carelessly in the face of death. 

On the last day of our stay in this camp, the trappers 
were ready for departure. When in the Black Hills they 
had caught seven beaver, and they now left their skins in 
charge of Reynal to be kept until their return. Their strong, 
gaunt horses w^ere equipped with rusty Spanish bits and rude 
Mexican saddles, to which wooden stirrups were attached, 
while a buffalo robe was rolled up behind them and a 
bundle of beaver traps slung at the pommel. These, together 
with their rifles, their knives, their powder-horns and bullet- 
pouches, flint and steel and a tin cup, composed their whole 
traveling equipment. They shook hands with us and rode 
away; Saraphin with his grim countenance, like a surly bull- 
dog's, was in advance ; but Rouleau, clambering gayly into his 
seat, kicked his horse's sides, flourished his w^hip in the air, 
and trotted briskly over the prairie, trolling forth a Canadian 
song at the top of his lungs. Reynal looked after them with 
his face of brutal selfishness. 

"Well," he said, "if they are killed, I shall have the 
beaver. They'll fetch me fifty dollars at the fort, anyhow." 

This was the last I saw of them. 

We had been fqr five days in the hunting-camp, and the 
meat, which all this time had hung drying in the sun, was 
now fit for transportation. Buffalo hides also had been pro- 
cured in sufficient quantities for making the next season's 
lodges; but it remained to provide the long slender poles on 
which they w^ere to be supported. These were only to be 
had among the tall pine woods of the Black Hills, and in that 
direction therefore our next move was to be made. It is 
>rrrthy of notice that amid the general abundance which 



The Trappers 265 

during this time had prevailed in the camp, there were no 
instances of individual privation ; for although the hide and 
the tongue of the buffalo belong by exclusive right to the 
hunter who has killed it, yet anyone else is equally entitled 
to help himself from the rest of the carcass. Thus the weak, 
the aged, and even the indolent come in for a share of the 
spoils, and many a helpless old woman, who would otherwise 
perish from starvation, is sustained in profuse abundance. 

On the twenty-fifth of July, late in the afternoon, the 
camp broke up with the usual tumult and confusion, and we 
were all moving once more, on horseback and on foot, over 
the plains. We advanced, however, but a few miles. The old 
men, w4io during the whole march had been stoutly striding 
along on foot in front of the people, now seated themselves 
in a circle on the ground, while all the families, erecting their 
lodges in the prescribed order around them, formed the 
usual great circle of the camp ; meanwhile these village patri- 
archs sat smoking and talking. I threw my bridle to Ray- 
mond, and sat down as usual along with them. There was 
none of that reserve and apparent dignity which an Indian 
always assumes when in council, or in the presence of white 
men whom he distrusts. The party, on the contrary, was 
an extremely merry one, and as in a social circle of a quite 
different character, ''if there was not much wit, there was at 
least a great deal of laughter."^ 

When the first pipe was smoked out, I rose and with- 
drew to the lodge of my host. Here I was stooping, in the 
act of taking off my powder-horn and bullet-pouch, when sud- 
denly, and close at hand, pealing loud and shrill and in right 
good earnest, came the terrific yell of the war-whoop. Kon- 
gra-Tonga's squaw snatched up her youngest child and ran 
out of the lodge. I followed, and found the w^hole village in 
confusion, resounding with cries and yells. The circle of 
old men in the center had vanished. The warriors with glit- 

>Incorrectly quoted from Goldsmith's The Vicar of Wakefield, Chapter xxxii. 



266 The Oregon Trail 

taring eyes came darting, their weapons in their hands, out 
of the low opening of the lodges, and running with w^ild yells 
toward the farther end of the village. Advancing a few rods 
in that direction, I saw a crowd in furious agitation, while 
others ran up on every side to add to the confusion. Just 
then I distinguished the voices of Raymond and Reynal, 
shouting to me from a distance, and looking back I saw 
the latter with his rifle in his hand, standing on the farther 
bank of a little stream that ran along the outskirts of the 
camp. He was calling to Raymond and myself to come over 
and join him, and Raymond, w^ith his usual deliberate gait 
and stolid countenance, was already moving in that direction. 
This was clearly the wisest course, unless \ve wished to 
involve ourselves in the fray; so I turned to go, but just then 
a pair of eyes, gleaming like a snake's, and an aged familiar 
countenance was thrust from the opening of a neighboring 
lodge, and out bolted old Mene-Seela, full of fight, clutching 
his bow and arrows in one hand and his knife in the other. 
At that instant he tripped and fell sprawling on his face, 
while his weapons flew scattering away in every direction. 
The women with loud screams were hurrying with their 
children in their arms to place them out of danger, and I 
observed some hastening to prevent mischief by carrying away 
all the weapons they could lay hands on. On a rising ground 
close to the camp stood a line of old womfen singing a medicine 
song to allay the tumult. As I approached the side of the 
brook I heard gun-shots behind me, and turning back, I saw 
that the crowd had separated' into two long lines of naked 
warriors, confronting each other at a respectful distance, and 
yelling and jumping about to dodge the shot of their adver- 
saries, while they discharged bullets and arrows against each 
other. At the same time certain sharp, humming sounds in 
the air over my head, like the flight of beetles on a summer 
evening, warned me that the danger was not wholly confined 
to the immediate scene of the fray. So wading through the 



The Trappers 267 

brook, I joined Reynal and Raymond, and we sat down on 
the grass, in the posture of an armed neutrality, to watch the 
result. 

Happily it may be for ourselves, though quite contrary 
to our expectation, the disturbance was quelled almost as 
soon as it had commenced. When I looked again, the com- 
batants were once more mingled together in a mass. Though 
yells sounded occasionally from the thtong, the firing had 
entirely ceased, and I observed five or six persons moving 
busily about, as if acting the part of peacemakers. One of 
the village heralds or criers proclaimicd in a loud voice some- 
thing which my two companions were too much engrossed 
in their own observations to translate for me. The crowd 
began to disperse, though many a deep-set black eye still glit- 
tered with an unnatural luster, as the warriors slowly with- 
drew to their lodges. This fortunate suppression of the dis- 
turbance was owing to a few of the old men, less pugnacious 
than Mene-Seela, who boldly ran in between the combatants, 
and aided by some of the ''soldiers," or Indian police, suc- 
ceeded in effecting their object. 

It seemed very strange to me that although many arrows 
and bullets were discharged, no one w^as mortally hurt, and 
I could only account for this by the fact that both the marks- 
man and the object of his aim were leaping about incessantly 
during the whole time. By far the greater part of the vil- 
lagers had joined in the fray, for although there were not 
more than a dozen guns in the whole camp, I heard at least 
eight or ten shots fired. 

In a quarter of an hour all was comparatively quiet. A 
large circle of warriors were again seated in the center of 
the village, but this time I did not venture to join them, 
because I could see that the pipe, contrary to the usual order, 
was passing from the left hand to the right around the circle : 
a sure sign that a "medicine-smoke" of reconciliation was 
going forward, and that a w^hite man would be an unwelcome 



26S The Oregon Trail 

intruder. When I again entered the still agitated camp it 
was nearl)' dark, and mournful cries, howls, and w^ailings 
resounded from many female voices. Whether these had any 
connection with the late disturbance, or were merely lamen- 
tations for relatives slain in some former war expeditions, I 
:ould not distinctly ascertain. 

To inquire too closely into the cause of the quarrel was 
by no means prudent, and it was not until some time after 
that I discovered what had given rise to it. Among the 
Dakota there are many associations, or fraternities, connected 
with the purposes of their superstitions, their warfare, or 
their social life. There was one called "The Arrow-Break- 
ers," now in a great measure disbanded and dispersed. In 
the village there were, however, four men belonging to it, 
distinguished by the peculiar arrangement of their hair, which 
rose in a high bristling mass above their foreheads, adding , 
greatly to their apparent height and giving them a most 
ferocious appearance. The principal among them was the 
Mad Wolf, a warrior of remarkable size and strength, great 
courage, and the fierceness of a demon. I had always looked 
upon him as the most dangerous man in the village ; and 
though he often invited me to feasts, I never entered his 
lodge unarmed. The Mad Wolf had taken a fancy to a fine 
horse belonging to another Indian, who was called the Tall 
Bear; and anxious to get the animal into his possession, he 
made the ow^ner a present of another horse nearly equal in 
value. According to the customs of the Dakota, the accept- 
ance of this gift involved a sort of obligation to make an 
equitable return ; and the Tall Bear well understood that the 
other had in view the obtaining of his favorite buffalo horse. 
He however accepted the present without a word of thanks,' 
and having picketed the horse before his lodge, he suffered 
day after day to pass v/ithout making the expected return. 
The Mad Wolf grew impatient and angry; and at last, see- 
ing that his bounty was not likely to produce the desired 



The Trappers 269 

return, he resolved to reclaim it. So this evening, as soon 
as the village w^as encamped, he w^ent to the lodge of the 
Tall Bear, seized upon the horse that he had given him, and 
led him away. At this the Tall Bear broke into one of those 
fits of sullen rage not uncommon among the Indians. He 
ran up to the unfortunate horse, and gave him three mortal 
stabs with his knife. Quick as lightning the Mad Wolf 
drew his bow to its utmost tension, and held the arrow 
quivering close to the breast of his adversary. The Tall 
Bear, as the Indians who were near him said, stood with 
his bloody knife in his hand, facing the assailant with the 
utmost calmness. Some of his friends and relatives, seeing 
his danger, ran hastily to his assistance. The remaining 
three Arrow-breakers, on the other hand, came to the aid 
of their associate. Many of their friends joined them, the 
war-cry was raised on a sudden, and the tumult became 
general. 

The "soldiers," who lent their timely aid in putting it 
down, are by far the most important executive functionaries 
in an Indian vill'age. The office is one of considerable honor, 
being confided only to men of courage and repute. They 
derive their authority from the old men and chief warriors 
of the village, who elect them in councils occasionally con- 
vened for the purpose, and thus can exercise a degree of 
authority which no one else in the village would dare to 
assume. While very few Ogallala chiefs could venture 
without instant jeopardy of their lives to strike or lay hands 
upon the meanest of their people, the "soldiers," in the dis- 
charge of their appropriate functions, have full license to 
make use of these and similar acts of coercion. 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE BLACK HILLS 

We traveled eastwi-rd for two days, and then the gloomy 
ridges of the Black Hills rose up before us. The village 
passed along for some miles beneath their declivities, trailing 
out to a great length over the arid prairie, or winding at 
times among small detached hills or distorted shapes. Turn- 
ing sharply to the left, w^e entered a wide defile of the moun- 
tains, down the bottom of which a brook came winding, 
lined with tall grass and dense copses, amid which were 
hidden many beaver dams and lodges. We passed along 
between two lines of high precipices and rocks, piled in 
utter disorder one upon another, and with scarcely a tree, a 
bush, or a clump of grass to veil their nakedness. The rest- 
less Indian boys were wandering along their edges and clam- 
bering up and down their rugged sides, and sometimes a 
group of them would stand on the verge of a cliff and look 
down on the array as it passed in review beneath them. As 
we advanced, the passage grew more narrow; then it sud- 
denly expanded into a round grassy meadow, completely 
encompassed by mountains; and here the families stopped as 
they came up in turn, and the camp rose like magic. * 

The lodges were hardly erected when, w^ith their usual 
precipitation, the Indians set about accomplishing the object 
that had brought them there; that is, the obtaining poles 
for supporting their new lodges. Half the population, men, 
women, and boys, mounted their horses and set out for the 
interior of the mountains. As they rode at full gallop over 
the shingly rocks and into the dark opening of ths defile 
leybnd, I thought I had never read or dreamed of a more 

270 



The Black Hills 271 

strange or picturesque cavalcade. We passed between preci- 
pices more than a thousand feet high, sharp and splintering 
at the tops, their sides beetling over the defile or descending 
in abrupt declivities, bristling with black fir trees. , On our 
left they rose close to us like a wall, but on the right a wind- 
ing brook with a narrow strip of marshy soil intervened.. 
The stream was clogged with old beaver dams, and spread 
frequently into wide pools. There were thick bushes and 
many dead and blasted trees along its course, though fre- 
quently nothing remained but stumps cut close to the ground 
by the beaver, and marked with the sharp chisel-like teeth 
of those indefatigable laborers. Sometimes we were diving 
among trees, and then emerging upon open spots over which, 
Indian-like, all galloped at full speed. As Pauline bounded 
over the rocks I felt her saddle-girth slipping, and alighted to 
draw it tighter; when the whole array swept past me in a 
moment, the women with tlieir gaudy ornaments tinkling as 
they rode, the men whooping and laughing and lashing for- 
ward their horses. Two black-tailed deer bounded away 
among the rocks; Raymond shot at them from horseback; 
the sharp report of his rifle was answered by another equally 
sharp from the opposing cliffs, and then the echoes, leaping in 
rapid succession from side to side, died away rattling far 
amid the mountains. 

After having ridden in this manner for six or eight 
miles, the appearance of the scene began to change, and all 
the declivities around us were covered with forests of tall, 
slender pine trees. The Indians began to fall off to the 
right and left, and dispersed with their hatchets and knives 
among these woods, to cut the poles which they had come to 
seek. Soon I was left almost alone; but in the deep stillness 
of those lonely mountains, the stroke of hatchets and the 
sound of voices might be heard from far and near. 

Reynal, who imitated the Indians in their habits as well 
as the worst features of their character, had killed buffalo 



272 The Oregon Trail 

enough to make a lodge for himself and his squaw, and now 
he was eager to get the poles necessary to complete it. He 
asked me to let Raymond go with him and assist in the work. 
I assented, and the two men immediately entered the thickest 
part of the wood. Having left my horse in Raymond's 
keeping, I began to climb the mountain. I was weak and 
weary and made slow progress, often pausing to rest, but 
after an hour had elapsed, I gained a height whence the little 
valley out of which I had climbed seemed like a deep, dark 
gulf, though the inaccessible peak of the mountain was still 
towering to a much greater distance above. Objects familiar 
from childhood surrounded me : crags and rocks, a black and 
sullen brook that gurgled with a hollow voice deep among 
the crevices, a wood of mossy distorted trees and prostrate 
trunks flung down by age and storms,, scattered among the 
rocks or damming the foaming waters of the little brook. 
The objects were the same, yet they were thrown into a 
wilder and m.ore startling scene, for the black crags and the 
savage trees assumed a grim and threatening aspect, and close 
across the valley the opposing mountain confronted me, rising 
from the gulf for thousands of feet, with its bare pinnacles 
and its ragged covering of pines. Yet the scene was not 
without its milder features. As I ascended, I found frequent 
little grassy terraces, and there was one of these close at hand, 
across which the brook was stealing beneath the shade of 
scattered trees that seemed artificially planted. Here I 
made a welcome discovery, no other than a bed of strawber- 
ries, with their white flowers and their red fruit, close nestled 
among the grass by the side of the brook; and I sat down 
by them, hailing them as old acquaintances ; for among those 
lonely and perilous mountains they awakened delicious associ- 
ations of the gardens and peaceful homes of far-distant New 
England. 

Yet wild as they were, these mountains were thickly 
peopled. As I climbed farther, I found the broad dusty 



, The Black Hills 273 

paths made by the elk as they filed across the mountainside. 
The grass on all the terraces was trampled down by deer; 
there were numerous tracks of wolves, and in some of the 
rougher and more precipitous parts of the ascent I found 
foot-prints different from any that I had ever seen, and 
which I took to be those of the Rocky Mountain sheep. I 
sat down upon a rock ; there was a perfect stillness. No wind 
was stirring, and not even an insect could be heard. I recol- 
lected the danger of becoming lost in such a place, and there- 
fore I fixed my eye upon one of the tallest pinnacles of the 
opposite mountain. It rose sheer upright from the woods 
below, and by an extraordinary freak of nature sustained aloft 
on its very summit a large loose rock. Such a landmark 
could never be mistaken, and feeling once more secure, I 
began again to move forward. A white wolf jumped up 
from among some bushes, and leaped clumsily away; but he 
stopped for a moment, and turned back his keen eye and his 
grim bristling muzzle. I longed to take his scalp and carry 
it back with me as an appropriate trophy of the Black Hills, 
but before I could fire he was gone among the rocks. Soon 
I heard a rustling sound, with a cracking of twigs at a little 
distance, and saw moving above the tall bushes the branching 
antlers of an elk. I was in the midst of a hunter's paradise. 
Such are the Black Hills, as I found them in July; but 
they wear a different garb when winter sets in, when the 
broad boughs of the fir tree are bent to the ground by the 
load of snow, and the dark mountains are whitened wnth it. 
* At that season the mountain-trappers, returned from their 
autumn expeditions, often build their rude cabins in the 
midst of these solitudes, and live in abundance and luxury on 
the game that harbors there. I have heard them relate how, 
with their tawny mistresses and perhaps a few young Indian 
companions, they have spent months In total seclusion. They 
would dig pitfalls, and set traps for the white wolves, the 
sables, and the martens, and though through the whole night 



274 The Oregon Trail 

the awful chorus of the wolves would resound from the 
frozen mountains around them, yet within their massive 
walls of logs they would lie in careless ease and comfort 
before the blazing fire, and in the morning shoot the elk and 
the deer from their very door. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

A MOUNTAIN HUNT 

The camp was full of the newly-cut lodge-poles ; some, 
already prepared, were stacked together, white and glistening, 
to dry and harden in the sun ; others were lying on the 
ground, and the squaws, the boys, and even some of the 
warriors were busily at work peeling off the bark and paring 
them with their knives to the proper dimensions. Most of 
the hides obtained at the last camp were dressed and scraped 
thin enough for use, and many of the squarws w^re engaged 
in fitting them together and sewing them with sinews, to 
form the coverings for the lodges. Men were wandering 
among the bushes that lined the brook along the margin of 
the camp, cutting sticks of red willow, or shongsasha, the 
bark of which, mJxed with tobacco, they use for smoking. 
Reynal's squaw was hard at work with her awl and buffalo 
sinews upon her lodge, while her proprietor, having just 
finished an enormous breakfast oi m.eat, was smoking a social 
pipe along with Raymond and myself. He proposed at length 
that we should go out on a hunt. "Go to the Big Crow's 
lodge," said he, "and get your rifle. I'll bet the gray Wyan- 
dot pony against your mare that we start an elk or a black- 
tailed deer, or likely as not a bighorn,^ before we are two 
miles out of camp. I'll take my squaw's old yellow horse; 
you can't whip her more than four miles an hour, but she is 
as good for the mountains as a mule." 

I mounted the black mule which Raymond usually rode. 
She was a very fine and powerful animal, gentle and man- 
ageable enough by nature ; but of late her temper had been 
soured by misfortune. ■ About a v/eek before I had chanced 

iThe bighorn elk. 

275 



276 The Oregon Trail 

to offend some one of the Indians, who out of revenge went 
secretly into the meadow and gave her a severe stab in the 
haunch with his knife. The wound, though partially healed, 
still galled her extremely, and made her even more perverse 
and obstinate than the rest of her species. 

The morning w^as a glorious one, and I was in better 
health than I had been at any time for the last two months. 
Though a strong frame and w^ll compacted sinews had borne 
me through hitherto, it was long since I had been in a condi- 
tion to feel the exhilaration of the fresh mountain wind and 
the gay sunshine that brightened the crags and trees. We 
left the little valley and ascended a rocky hollow in the moun- 
tain. Very soon, we were out of sight of the camp and of 
every living thing, man, beast, bird, or insect. I had never 
before, except on foot, passed over such execrable ground, 
and I desire never to repeat the experiment. The black 
mule grew Indignant, and even the redoubtable yellow^ horse 
stumbled every moment, and kept groaning to himself as 
he cut his feet and legs among the sharp rocks. 

It was a scene of silence and desolation. Little was 
visible except beetling crags and the bare shingly sides of the 
mountains, relieved by scarcely a trace of vegetation. At 
length, how^ever, we came upon a forest tract, and had no 
sooner done so than we heartily wished ourselves back 
among the rocks again ; for we were on a steep descent, 
among trees so thick that we could see scarcely a rod in 
any direction. 

If one is anxious to place himself in a situation where 
the hazardous and ludicrous are combined in about equal 
proportions, let him get upon a vicious mule, w^ith a snaffle 
bit, and try to drive her through the woods down a slope 
of 45 degrees. Let him have on a long rifle, a buckskin frock 
with long fringes, and a head of long hair. These latter 
appendages will be caught every moment and twitched away 
In small portions by the twigs, which will also whip him 



A Mountain Hunt 277 

smartly across the face, while the large branches above 
thump him on the head. His mule, if she be a true one, 
will alternately stop short and dive violently forward, and 
his positions upon her back will be somewhat diversified 
and extraordinary. At one time he will clasp her affection- 
ately to avoid the blow of a bough overhead ; at another he 
will throw himself back and fling his knee forward against 
the side of her neck, to keep it from being crushed between 
the rough bark of a tree and the equally unyielding ribs of 
the animal herself. Re\^nal was cursing incessantly during 
the whole way down. Neither of us had the remotest idea 
where we were going ; and though I have seen rough riding, 
I shall always retain an evil recollection of that five minutes' 
scramble. 

At last we left our troubles behind us, emerging into 
the channel of a brook that circled along the foot of the 
descent; and here, turning joyfully to the left, we rode in 
luxury and ease over the white pebbles and the rippling 
water, shaded from the glaring sun by an overarching green 
transparency. These halcyon moments were of short dura- 
tion. The friendly brook, turning sharply to one side, w^ent 
brawling and foaming down the rocky hill into an abyss 
which, as far as we could discern, had no bottom ; so once 
more we betook ourselves to the detested woods. When 
next we came forth from their dancing shadow and sunlight, 
we found ourselves standing in the broad glare of day, on 
a high jutting point of the mountain. Before us stretched 
a long, wide, desert valley winding away far amid the moun- 
tains. No civilized eye but mine had ever looked upon that 
virgin waste. Reynal was gazing intently; he began to 
speak at last: 

''Many a time, when I was with the Indians, I have 
been hunting for gold all through the Black Hills. There's 
plenty of it here ; you may be certain of that. I have dreamed 
about it fiftv times, and I never dreamed vet but what it 



278 The Oregon Trail 

came out true. Look over yonder at those black rocks piled 
up against that other big reck. Don't it look as if there 
might be something there? It won't do for a white man to 
be rummaging too much about these mountains ; the Indians 
say they are full of bad spirits; and I believe myself that it's 
no good luck to be hunting about here after gold. Well, for 
all that, I would like to have one of these fellows up here 
from down below,^ to go about with his witch-hazel rod," and 
I'll guarantee that it would not be long before he would light 
on a gold mine. Never mind; we'll let the gold alone for 
to-day. Look at those trees down below us in the hollow ; 
we'll go down there, and I reckon we'll get a black-tailed 
deer." 

But Reynal's predictions were not verified. We passed 
mountain after mountain, and valley after valley; we explored 
deep ravines; yet still to my companion's vexation and evident 
surprise no game could be found. So, in the absence of bet- 
ter, we resolved to go out on the plains and look for an ante- 
lope. With this view we began to pass down a narrow val- 
ley, the bottom of which w^as covered with the stiff wild- 
sage bushes and marked with deep paths, made by the buf- 
falo, who, for some inexplicable reason, are accustomed to 
penetrate, in their long grave processions, deep among the 
gorges of these sterile mountains. 

Reynal's eye was ranging incessantly among the rocks 
and along the edges of the black precipices, in hopes of dis- 
covering the mountain sheep peering down upon us in fan- 
cied security from that giddy elevation. Nothing was visible 
for some time. At length we both detected something in 
motion near the foot of one of the mountains, and in a 
moment afterw^ard a black-tailed deer, with his spreading 
antlers, stood gazing at us from the top of a rock, and then. 

iFrom the white settlements. 

2A reference to the popular superstition that a stick of wit'-'i h^-Kf\, carried 
in the hands of certain persons, will point to the location of gold, sliver, wattr, 
etc. 



A Mountain Hunt 279 

slowly turning away, disappeared behind it. In an instant 
Reynal was out of his saddle, and running toward the spot. 
I, being too weak to follow, sat holding his horse and waiting 
the result. I lost sight of him, then heard the report of his 
rifle deadened among the rocks, and finally saw him reappear, 
with a surly look that plainly betrayed his ill success. Again 
we moved forward down the long valley, when soon after 
we came full upon what seemed a wide and very shallow 
ditch, incrusted at the bottom with white clay, dried and 
cracked in the sun. Under this fair outside, Reynal's eye 
detected the signs of lurking mischief. He called me to stop, 
and then alighting, picked up a stone and threw it into the 
ditch. To my utter amazement it fell with a dull splash, 
breaking at once through the thin crust, and spattering round 
the whole a j^ellowish creamy fluid, into which it sank and dis- 
appeared. A stick, five or six feet long, lay on the ground, 
and with this we sounded the insidious abyss close to its edge. 
It was just possible to touch the bottom. Places like this 
are numerous among the Rocky Mountains. The buffalo, 
in his blind and heedless walk, often plunges into them una- 
wares. Down he sinks; one snort of terror, one convulsive 
struggle, and the slime calmly flows above his shaggy head, 
the languid undulations of its sleek and placid surface alone 
betraying how the powerful monster writhes In his death- 
throes below. 

We found after some trouble a point where we could 
pass the abyss, and now the valley began to open upon the 
plains which spread to the horizon before us. On one of 
their distant swells we discerned three or four black specks, 
which Reynal pronounced to be buffalo. 

"Come," said he, "w^e must get one of them. My squaw 
w^ants more sinews to finish her lodge with, and I want some 
glue myself." 

He Immediately put the yellow horse to such a gallop as 
he was capable of executing, while I set spurs to the mule, 



280 The Oregon Trail 

who soon far outran her plebeian rival. When we had gal- 
loped a mile or more, a large rabbit, by ill luck, sprang up 
just under the feet of the mule, who bounded violently aside 
in full career. Weakened as I was, I was flung forcibly to 
the ground, and my rifle, falling close to my head, went off 
with the shock. Its sharp, spiteful report rang for some 
moments in my ear. Being slightly stunned, I lay for an 
instant motionless, and Reynal, supposing me to be shot, rode 
up and began to curse the mule. Soon recovering myself, I 
rose, picked up the rifle and anxiously examined it. It was 
badly injured. The stock was cracked and the main screw 
broken, so that the lock had to be tied in its place with a 
string; yet happily it was not rendered totally unserviceable. 
I wiped it out, reloaded it, and handing it to Reynal, who 
meanwhile had caught the mule and led her up to me, I 
mounted again. No sooner had I done so, than the brute 
began to rear and plunge with extreme violence ; but being 
now well prepared for her and free from incumbrance, I 
soon reduced her to submission. Then taking the rifle again 
from Reynal, we galloped forward as before. 

We were now free of the mountain and riding far out 
on the broad prairie. The buffalo were still some two 
miles in advance of us. When we came near them, we 
stopped where a gentle swell of the plain concealed us from 
their view, and while I held his horse Reynal ran forward 
with his rifle, till I lost sight of him beyond the rising ground. 
A few minutes elapsed ; I heard the report of his piece, and 
saw the buffalo running away at full speed on the right, and 
immediately after the hunter himself, unsuccessful as before, 
came up and mounted his horse in excessive ill-humor. He 
cursed the Black Hills and the buffalo, swore that he was 
a good hunter, which indeed was true, and that he had never 
been out before among those mountains without killing two 
or three deer at least. 

We now turned toward the distant encampment. As 



A Mountain Hunt 281 

we rode along, antelope in considerable numbers were flying 
lightly in all directions over the plain, but not one of them 
would stand and be shot at. When we reached the foot of 
the mountain ridge that lay between us and the village, we 
were too impatient to take the smooth and circuitous route; 
so turning short to the left, we drove our wearied animals 
directly upward among the rocks. Still more antelope were 
leaping about among these flinty hillsides. Each of us shot 
at one, though from a great distance, and each missed his 
mark. At length we reached the summit of the last ridge. 
Looking down, we saw the bustling camp in the valley at our 
feet, and ingloriously descended to it. As we rode among 
the lodges, the Indians looked in vain for the fresh meat that 
should have hung behind our saddles, and the squaws uttered 
various suppressed ejaculations, to the great indignation of 
Reynal. Our mortification was increased when we rode up 
to his lodge. Here we saw his young Indian relative, the 
Hail-Storm, his light graceful figure reclining on the ground 
in an easy attitude, while with his friend the Rabbit, who 
sat by his side, he was making an abundant meal from a 
wooden bowl of wasna which the squaw had placed between 
them. Near him lay the fresh skin of a female elk, w^hich 
he had just killed among the mountains only a mile or two 
from the camp. No doubt the boy's heart was elated with 
triumph, but he betra5^ed no sign of it. He even seemed 
totally unconscious of our approach, and his handsome face 
had all the tranquillity of Indian self-control ; a self-control 
which prevents the exhibition of emotion, without restrain- 
ing the emotion itself. It was about tw^o months since I 
had known the Hail-Storm, and within that time his char- 
acter had remarkably developed. When I first saw him, he 
was just emerging from the habits and feelings of the boy 
into the ambition of the hunter and warrior. He had lately 
killed his first deer, and this had excited his aspirations after 
distinction. Since that time he had been continually in search 



282 The Oregon Trail 

of game, and no young hunter in the village had been so active 
or so fortunate as he. It will perhaps be remembered how 
fearlessly he attacked the buffalo bull, as we w^ere moving 
toward our camp at the ]VIedicine-Bow Mountain. All this 
success had produced a marked change In his character. As 
I first remem.bered him he always shunned the society of the 
young squaws, and was extremely bashful and sheepish in 
their presence ; but now, In the Confidence of his own reputa- 
tion, he began to assume the airs and the arts of a man of 
gallantry. He wore his red blanket dashingly over his left 
shoulder, painted his cheeks every day with vermilion, and 
hung pendants of shells In his ears. If I observed aright, he 
met with very good success In his new pursuits ; still the Hail- 
Storm had much to accomplish before he attained the full 
standing of a warrior. Gallantly as he began to bear him- 
self among the women and girls, he still was timid and 
abashed in the presence of the chiefs and old men ; for he had 
never yet killed a man, or stricken the dead body of an enemy 
In battle. I have no doubt that the handsome smooth-faced 
boy burned with a keen desire to flesh his maiden scalping- 
knife, and I would not have encamped alone with him with- 
out watching his movements with a distrustful eye. 

His elder brother, the Horse, was of a different char- 
acter. He was nothing but a lazy dandy. He knew very 
w^ell how to hunt, but preferred to live by the hunting of 
others. He had no appetite for distinction, and the Hail- 
Storm, though a few years 5^ounger than he, already surpassed 
him In reputation. He had a dark and ugly face, and he 
passed a great part of his time in adorning it with vermilion, 
and contemplating it by means of a little pocket looking-glass 
w^hich I gave him. As for the rest of the day, he divided 
It between eating and sleeping and sitting In the sun on the 
oubide of a lodge. Here he w^ould remain for hour after 
hour, arrayed In all his finery, with an old dragoon's sword 
in his hand, and evidently flattering himself that he was the 



A Mountain Hunt 283 

center of attraction to the eyes of the surrounding squaws. 
Yet he sat looking straight forward with a face of the utmost 
gravity, as if wrapped in profound meditation, and it was only 
by the occasional sidelong glances which he shot at his sup- 
posed admirers that one could detect the true course of his 
thoughts. 

Both he and his brother may represent a class in the 
Indian community; neither should the Hail-Storm's friend, 
the Rabbit, be passed by without notice. The Hail-Storm 
and he were inseparable : they ate, slept, and hunted together, 
and shared with one another almost all that they possessed. 
If there be anything that deserves to be called romantic in 
the Indian character, it is to be sought for in friendships 
such as this, w^hich are quite common am.ong many of the 
prairie tribes. 

Slowl)^, hour after hour, that weary afternoon dragged 
away. I lay in Reynal's lodge, overcome by the listless tor- 
por that pervaded the whole encam.pm.ent. The day's work 
was finished, or if it v^ere not, the inhabitants had resolved 
not to finish it at all, and all were dozing quietly within the 
shelter of the lodges. A profound letharg}', the very spirit 
of indolence, seemed to have sunk upon the village. Now 
and then I could hear the low^ laughter of som.e girl from 
within a neighboring lodge, or the small shrill voices of a 
few restless children, who alone were moving in the deserted 
area. The spirit of the place infected mie ; I could not even 
think consecutively ; I was fit only for musing and reverie, 
when at last, like the rest, I fell asleep. 

When evening came and the fires were lighted round 
the lodges, a select family circle convened in the neighborhood 
of Reynal's domicile. It was com.posed entirely of his squaw's 
relatives, a m.ean and ignoble clan, among whom none but 
the Hail-Storm held forth any promise of future distinction. 
Even his prospects were rendered not a little dubious by 
the character of the family, less how^ever from any principle 



284 The Oregon Trail 

of aristocratic distinction than from the want of powerful 
supporters to assist him in his undertakings and help to 
avenge his quarrels. Raymond and I sat down along with 
them. There were eight or ten men gathered around the 
fire, together with about as many women, old and young, 
some of whom w^ere tolerably good-looking. As the pipe 
passed round among the men, a lively conversation went 
forward, more merry than delicate, and at length two or 
three of the elder women (for the girls were somewhat 
diffident and bashful) began to assail Raymond with various 
pungent witticisms. Some of the men took part, and an old 
squaw concluded by bestowing on him a ludicrous nickname, 
at which a general laugh followed at his expense. Raymond 
grinned and giggled, and made several futile attempts at 
repartee. Knowing the impolicy and even danger of suffer- 
ing myself to be placed in a ludicrous light among the 
Indians, I maintained a rigid inflexible countenance, and 
wholly escaped their sallies. 

In the morning I found, to my great disgust, that the 
camp was to retain its position for another day. I dreaded 
its langour and monotony, and to escape it I set out to explore 
the surrounding mountains. I was accompanied by a faith- 
ful friend, my rifle, the only friend indeed on whose prompt 
assistance in time of trouble I could implicitly rely. Most 
of the Indians in the village, it is true, professed good-will 
toward the whites, but the experience of others and my own 
observation had taught me the extreme folly of confidence, 
and the utter impossibility of foreseeing to what sudden acts 
the strange unbridled impulses of an Indian may urge him. 
When among this people danger is never so near as when 
you are unprepared for it, never so remote as when you are 
armed and on the alert to meet it any moment. Nothing 
offers so strong a temptation to their ferocious instincts as 
the appearance of timidity, w^eakness, or security. 

Many deep and gloomy gorges, choked with trees and 



A Mountain Hunt 2S5 

bushes, opened from the sides of the hills, which were shaggy 
with forests wherever the rocks permitted vegetation to 
spring. A great number of Indians were stalking along 
the edges of the w^oods, and boys were whooping and laugh- 
ing on the mountain-sides, practicing eye and hand, and 
indulging their destructive propensities by following birds 
and small animals and killing them with their little bows 
and arrows. There was one glen stretching up between steep 
cliffs far into the bosom of the mountain. I began to 
ascend along its bottom, pushing my w^ay onward among the 
rocks, trees, and bushes that obstructed it. A slender thread 
of water trickled along its center, which since issuing from 
the heart of its native rock could scarcely have been warmed 
or gladdened by a ray of sunshine. After advancing for some 
time, I conceived mj'self to be entirely alone ; but coming to 
a part of the glen in a great measure free of trees and under- 
growth, I saw at some distance the black head and red shoul- 
ders of an Indian among the bushes above. The reader need 
not prepare himself for a startling adventure, for I have none 
to relate. The head and shoulders belonged to Mene-Seela, 
my best friend in the village. As I had approached noise- 
lessly with my moccasined feet, the old man was quite uncon- 
scious of my presence ; and turning to a point w^here I could 
gain an unobstructed view of him, I saw him seated alone, 
immovable as a statue, among the rocks and trees. His face 
w^as turned upw^ard, and his eyes seemed riveted on a pine 
tree springing from a cleft in the precipice above. The crest 
of the pine was swaying to and fro in the wind, and its long 
limbs waved slowly up and down, as if the tree had life. 
Looking for a while at the old man, I w^as satisfied that he 
was engaged in an act of worship or prayer, or communion 
of some kind with a supernatural being. I longed to pene- 
trate his thoughts, but I could do nothing more than con- 
jecture and speculate. I knew that though the intellect of 
an Indian can embrace the idea of an all-wise, all-powerful 



286 The Oregon Trail 

Spirit, the supreme Ruler of the universe, j-et his mind will 
not always ascend into communion with a being that seems 
to him so vast, remote, and incomprehensible; and when 
danger threatens, when his hopes are broken, when the black 
wing of sorrow overshadows him, he is prone to turn for 
relief to some inferior agency less removed from the ordinary 
scope of his faculties. He has a guardian spirit on w^hom he 
relies for succor and guidance. To him all nature is instinct 
with mystic influence. Among those mountains not a wild 
beast was prowling, a bird singing, or a leaf fluttering, that 
might not tend to direct his destiny or give warning of what 
was in store for him; and he watches the world of nature 
around him as the astrologer w^atches the stars. So closely 
is he linked with it that his guardian spirit, no unsubstantial 
creation of the fancy, is usually embodied in the form of some 
living thing — a bear, a wolf, an eagle, or a serpent ; and 
Mene-Seela, as he gazed intently on the old pine tree, 
might believe it to enshrine' the fancied guide and protector 
of his life. 

Whatever was passing in the mind of the old man, it 
was no part of sense or of delicacy to disturb him. Silently 
retracing my footseps, I descended the glen until I came to 
a point w^here I could climb the steep precipices that shut it 
in, and gain the side of the mountain. Looking up, I saw 
a tall peak rising among the woods. Something impelled 
me to climb; I. had not felt for many a day such strength 
and elasticity of limb. An hour and a half of slow and 
often intermitted labor brought me to the very summit ; 
and emerging from the dark shadows of the rocks and pines, 
I stepped forth into the light, and w^alking along the sunny 
verge of a precipice, seated myself on its extreme point. 
Looking between the mountain peaks to the westward, the 
pale blue prairie w^as stretching to the farthest horizon like 
a serene and tranquil ocean. The surrounding mountains 
were in themselves sufficiently striking and impressive, but 
this contrast gave redoubled effect to their stern featurer. 



CHAPTER XIX 

PASSAGE CF THE MOUNTAINS 

When I took leave of Shaw at La Bonte's camp, I 
promised that I would meet him at Fort Laramie on the first 
of August. That day, according to my reckoning, was now 
close at hand. It was impossible, at best, to fulfill my engage- 
ment exactly, and ray meeting with him must have been 
postponed until many days after the appointed time, had 
not the plans of the Indians very well coincided with my 
own. They too, intended to pass the mountains and move 
toward the fort. To do so at this point was impossible, 
because there was no opening; and in order to find a passage 
we were obliged to go twelve or fourteen miles southward. 
Late in the afternoon the camp got in motion, defiling back 
through the mountains along the same narrow passage by 
which they had entered. I rode in company with three or 
four young Indians at the rear, and the moving swarm 
stretched before m^e in the ruddy light of sunset, or in the 
deep shadow of the mountains far beyond my sight. It was 
an ill-omened spot they chose to encamp upon. When they 
were there just a year before, a war party of ten men, led 
by the Whirlwind's son, had gone out against the enemy, 
and not one had ever returned. This was the immediate 
cause of this season's warlike preparations. I was not a little 
astonished, when I came to the camp, at the confusion of 
horrible sounds with which it was filled; howls, shrieks, and 
wailings were heard from all the women present, many of 
whom, not content with this exhibition of grief for the loss 
of their friends and relatives, were gashing their legs deeply 
with knives. A warrior in the village, who had lost a 
brother in the expedition, chose another mode of displaying 

287 



^S8 The Oregon Trail 

his sorrow. The Indians, who, though often rapacious, are 
utterly devoid of avarice, are accustomed in times of mourn- 
ing, or on other solemn occasions, to give away the whole 
of their possessions and reduce themselves to nakedness and 
want. The warrior in question led his two best horses into 
the center of the village, and gave them away to his friends; 
upon which songs and acclamations in praise of his generos- 
ity mingled with the cries of the women. 

On the next morning we entered once more among the 
mountains. There was nothing in their appearance either 
grand or picturesque, though they were desolate to the last 
degree, being mere piles of black and broken rocks without 
trees or 'vegetation of any kind. As we passed among them 
along a wide valley, I noticed Raymond riding by the side 
of a young squaw, to whom he was addressing various 
insinuating compliments. All the old squaws in the neigh- 
borhood watched his proceedings in great admiration, and the 
girl herself would turn aside her head and laugh. Just then 
the old mule thought proper to display her vicious pranks ; 
she began to rear and plunge most furiously. Raymond w^as 
an excellent rider, and at first he stuck fast in- his seat ; but 
the moment after, I saw the mule's hind-legs flourishing in 
the air, and my unlucky follower pitching head foremost over 
her ears. There was a burst of screams and laughter from 
all the women, in which his mistress herself took part, and 
Raj^mond was instantly assailed by such a shower of witti- 
cisms that he was glad to ride forward out of hearing. 

Not long after, as I rode near him, I heard him shouting 
to me. He was pointing toward a detached rocky hill that 
stood in the middle of the valley before us, and from behind 
it a long file of elk came out at full speed and entered an 
opening in the side of the mountain. They had scarcely dis- 
appeared when whoops and exclamations came from fifty 
voices around me. The 3^oung men leaped from their horses, 
flung down their heavy buffalo robes, and ran at full speed 



Passage of the Mountains 289 

toward the foot of the nearest mountain. Reynal also broke 
away at a gallop in the same direction. "Come on ! come on !" 
he called to us. "Do you see that band of bighorn up yonder 't 
If there's one of them, there's a hundred !" 

In fact, near the summit of the mountain, I could see a 
large number of small white objects moving rapidly upward 
among the precipices, while others were filing along its rocky 
profile. Anxious to see the sport, I galloped forward, and 
entering a passage in the side of the mountain, ascended 
among the loose rocks as far as my horse could carry me. 
Here I fastened her to an old pine tree that stood alone, 
scorching in the sun. At that moment Raymond called to me 
from the right that another band of sheep was close at hand 
in that direction. I ran up to the top of the opening, w^hich 
gave me a full view into the rocky gorge beyond ; and here I 
plainly saw some fifty or sixty sheep, almost within rifle-shot, 
clattering upward among the rocks, and endeavoring, after 
their usual custom, to reach the highest point. The naked 
Indians bounded up lightly in pursuit. In a moment the 
game and hunters disappeared. Nothing could be seen or 
heard but the occasional report of a gun, more and more dis- 
tant, reverberating among the rocks. 

I turned to descend, and as I did so I could see the valley 
below alive with Indians passing rapidly through it, on horse- 
back and on foot. A little farther on, all were stopping as 
they came up ; the camp was preparing, and the lodges rising. 
I descended to this spot, and soon after Reynal and Raymond 
returned. They bore between them a sheep which they had 
pelted to death with stones from the edge of a ravine, along the 
bottom of which it was attempting to escape. One by one the 
hunters came dropping in ; yet such is the activity of the 
Rocky Mountain sheep that, although sixty or seventy m.en 
were out in pursuit, not more than half a dozen animals were 
killed. Of these only one was a full-grown male. He had a 
pair of horns twisted like a ram's, the dimensions of which 



'^90 The Oregon Trail 

were almost oeyond belief. I have seen among the Indians 
ladles with long handles, capable of containing more than a 
quart, cut out from such horns. 

There is something peculiarly interesting in the character 
and habits of the mountain sheep, whose chosen retreats are 
above the region of vegetation and of storms, and who leap 
among the giddy precipices of their aerial home as actively 
as the antelope skims over the prairies below. 

Through the whole of the next morning we w^ere moving 
forward among the hills. On the following day the heights 
gathered around us, and the passage of the mountains began 
in earnest. Before the village left its camping ground, I set 
forward in company with the Eagle-Feather, a man of pow- 
erful frame but of bad .and sinister face. His son, a light- 
limbed boy, rode with us, and another Indian, named the 
Panther, w as also of the part}^ Leaving the village out of 
sight behind us, we rode together up a rocky defile. After 
a w^hile, how^ever, the Eagle-Feather discovered in the dis- 
tance some appearance of game, and set off with his son in 
pursuit of it, wdiile I w^ent forw^ard with the Panther. This 
was a mere nom de guerre;^ for, like many Indians, he con- 
cealed his real name out of some superstitious notion. He 
was a very noble looking fellow. As he suffered his orna- 
mented bufFalo robe to fall in folds about his loins, his stately 
and graceful figure w^as fully displaj'ed; and while he sat 
his horse in an easy attitude, the long feathers of the prairie 
cock fluttering from the crown of his head, he seemed the 
very model of a wild prairie-rider. He had not the same 
features wnth those of other Indians. Unless his handsome 
face greatly belied him, he was free from the jealousy, sus- 
picion, and malignant cunning of his people. For the most 
part, a civilized w^hite man can discover but very few points 
of sympathy between his own nature and that of an Indian. 
With every disposition to do justice to their good qualities, 

*War name. 



Passage of the Mountains 291 

he must be conscious that an impassable gulf lies between 
him and his red brethren of the prairie. Nay, so alien to 
himself do thej^ appear that, having breathed for a few 
months or a few weeks the air of this region, he begins to 
look upon them as a troublesome and dangerous species of 
wild beasts and, if expedient, he could shoot them with as 
little compunction as they themselves would experience after 
performing the same ofBce upon him. Yet, in the counte- 
nance of the Panther, I gladly read that there were at least 
some points of sympathy between him and me. We were 
excellent friends, and as we rode forward together through 
rocky passages, deep dells, and little barren plains, he occu- 
pied himself very zealously in teaching me the Dakota lan- 
guage. After a while, we came to a little grassy recess wherf^ 
some gooseberry bushes were growing at the foot of a rock: 
and these offered such temptation to my companion that he 
gave over his instruction, and stopped so long to gather 
the fruit that before we were in motion again the van of the 
village came in view. An old woman appeared, leading 
down her pack horse among the rocks above. Savage after 
savage followed, and the little dell was soon crowded with 
the throng. 

That morning's march w^as one not easily to be forgotten. 
It led us through a sublime waste, a wilderness of mountains 
and pine forests, over which the spirit of loneliness and silence 
seemed brooding. Above and below little could be seen but 
the same dark green foliage. It overspread the valleys, and 
the mountains were clothed with it from the black rocks that 
crowned their summits to the impetuous streams that circled 
round their base. Scenery like this, it might seem, could have 
no very cheering effect on the mind of a sick man (for today 
my disease had again assailed me) in the midst of a horde of 
savages; but if the reader has ever wandered, with a true 
hunter's spirit, among the forests of Maine or the more pic- 
turesque solitudes of the Adirondack Mountains, he will 



292 The Oregon Trail 

understand how the somber woods and mountains around 
me might have awakened any other feelings than those of 
gloom. In truth they recalled gladdening recollections of 
similar scenes in a distant and far different land. After we 
had been advancing for several hours through passages always 
narrow, often obstructed and difficult, I saw at a little dis- 
tance on our right a narrow opening between two high 
wooded precipices. All within seemed darkness and mystery. 
In the mood in which I found myself something strongly 
impelled me to enter. Passing over the intervening space I 
guided my horse through the rocky portal, and as I did so 
instinctively drew the covering from my rifle, half expecting 
that some unknown evil lay in ambush within those dreary 
recesses. The place was shut in among tall cliffs, and so 
deeply shadowed by a host of old pine trees that, though the 
sun shone bright on the side of the mountain, nothing but a 
dim twilight could penetrate within. As far as I could see 
it had no tenants except a few hawks and owls, who, dis- 
mayed at my intrusion, flapped hoarsely away among the 
shaggy branches. I moved forward, determined to explore 
the mystery to the bottom, and soon became involved among 
the pines. The genius of the place exercised a strange influ- 
ence upon my mind. Its faculties were stimulated into 
extraordinary activity, and as I passed along many half-for- 
gotten incidents, and the images of persons and things far 
distant, rose rapidly before me with surprising distinctness. 
In that perilous wilderness, eight hundred miles removed 
beyond the faintest vestige of civilization, the scenes of 
another hemJsphere, the seat of ancient refinement, passed 
before me more like a succession of vivid paintings than any 
mere dreams of the fancy. I saw the church of St. Peter's* 
illumined on the evening of Easter Day, the whole majestic 

^The church of St. Peter's at Rome, the greatest and most celebrated of all 
churches, was begun in the fifteenth century, the work of building continuing 
into the seventeenth century. Raphael and Michael Angelo were among those 
who lavished upon it their genius as artists or architects. 



Passage of the Mountains 293 

pile, from the cross to the foundation stone, penciled in fire 
and shedding a radiance, like the serene light of the moon, 
on the sea of upturned faces below. I saw the peak of 
Mount Etna towering above its inky mantle of clouds and 
lightly curling its wreaths of milk-white smoke against the 
soft sky flushed with the Sicilian sunset. I saw also the 
gloomy vaulted passages and the narrow cells of the Passion- 
ist^ convent, where I once had sojourned for a few days with 
the fanatical monks, its pale, stern inmates in their robes of 
black, and the grated window from whence I could look out, 
a forbidden indulgence, upon the melancholy Coliseum^ and 
the crumbling ruins of the Eternal City.^ The mighty gla- 
ciers of the Spliigen too rose before me, gleaming in the sun 
like polished silver, and those terrible solitudes, the birth- 
place of the Rhine, where, bursting from the bowels of its 
native mountains, it lashes and foams down the rocky abyss 
into the little valley of Andeer. These recollections, and 
many more, crowded upon me, until remembering that it was 
hardly wise to remain long in such a place, I mounted again 
and retraced my steps. Issuing from between the rocks I 
saw a few rods before me the men, women, and children, 
dogs and horses, still filing slowly across the little glen. A 
bare round hill rose directly above them. I rode to the top, 
and from this point I could look down on the savage proces- 
sion as it passed just beneath my feet, and far on the left I 
could see its thin and broken line, visible only at intervals, 
stretching away for miles among the mountains. On the 
farthest ridge horsemen were still descending like mere specks 
in the distance. 

I remained on the hill until all had passed, and then, 
descending, followed after them. A little farther on I found 

iJhe Passionists are a Roman Catholic order founded in 1737; so-called 
because the members, in addition to the usual monastic vows, take a fourth vow 
to meditate and preach upon the Passion, or sufferings and death, of Jesus. For 
Parkman's account of his stay in the monastery at Rome, see Sedgwick's Francis 
Parkman, 96-103. 

^The great amphitheatre at Rome. 

2Rome. 



294 The Oregon Trail 

a very small meadow, set deeply among steep mountains ; and 
here the whole village had encamped. The little spot was 
crowded with the confused and disorderly host. Some of the 
lodges were already completely prepared, or the squaws per- 
haps were busy in drawing the heavy coverings of skin over 
the bare poles. Others were as yet mere skeletons, while 
others still — poles, covering, and all — lay scattered in com- 
plete disorder on the ground among buffalo robes, bales of 
meat, domestic utensils, harness, and weapons. Squawks were 
screaming to one another, horses rearing and plunging, dogs 
5elping, eager to be disburdened of their loads, w^hile the 
fluttering of feathers and the gleam of. barbaric ornaments 
added liveliness to the scene. The small children ran about 
amid the crowd, while many of the boys were scrambling 
among the overhanging rocks, and standing, with their little 
bows in their hands, looking dow^n upon the restless throng. 
In contrast with the general confusion, a circle of old men 
and warriors sat in the midst, smoking in profound indiffer- 
ence and tranquillity. The disorder at length subsided. The 
liorses were driven away to feed along the adjacent valley, 
and the camp assumed an air of listless repose. It was 
scarcely past noon ; a vast w^hite canopy of smoke from a 
burning forest to the eastward overhung the place, and par- 
tially obscured the sun ; yet the heat was almost insupportable. 
The lodges stood crowded together without order in the 
narrow space. Each was a perfect hothouse, within which 
the lazy proprietor lay sleeping. The camp was silent as 
death. Nothing stirred except now and then an old woman 
passing from lodge to lodge. The girls and young men sat 
together in groups under the pine trees upon the surround- 
ing heights. The dogs lay panting on the ground, too lazy 
even to growl at the white man. At the entrance of the 
meadow there was a cold spring among the rocks, completely 
overshadowed by tall trees and dense undergrowth. In this 
cool and shady retreat a number of girls were assembled, n'"- 



Passage of the Mountains 295 

ting together on rocks and fallen logs, discussing the latest 
gossip of the village, or laughing and throwing water with 
their hands at the intruding Meneaska. The minutes seemed 
lengthened into hours. I lay for a long time under a tree, 
studying the Ogallala tongue with the zealous instructions of 
my friend the Panther. When w^e were both tired of this I 
w^ent and lay down by the side of a deep, clear pool formed 
by the water of the spring. A shoal of little fishes of about 
a pin's length were playing in it, sporting together, as it 
seemed, very amicably; but on closer observation, I saw that 
they were engaged in a cannibal warfare among themselves. 
Now and then a small one would fall a victim, and immedi- 
ately disappear down the maw of his voracious conqueror. 
Every moment, however, the tyrant of the pool, a monster 
about three inches long, with staring goggle eyes, would 
slowly issue forth with quivering fins and tail from under 
the shelving bank. The small fry at this would suspend their 
hostilities, and scatter in a panic at the appearance of 
overwhelming force. 

"Soft-hearted philanthropists," thought I, "m.ay sigh lon^ 
for their peaceful millennium ; for from minnows up to men, 
life is an incessant battle." 

Evening approached at last, the tall mountain-tops around 
were still gay and bright in sunshine, while our deep glen 
was completely shadowed. I left the camp and ascended a 
neighboring hill, whose rocky summit commanded a wide 
view over the surrounding wilderness. The sun was still 
glaring through the stiff pines on the ridge of the western 
mountain. In a moment he was gone, and as the landscape 
rapidly darkened, I turned again toward the village. As I 
descended the hill, the howling of wolves and the barking 
of foxes cam.e up out of the dim woods from far and near. 
The camp was glowing with a multitude of fires, and alive 
with dusky naked figures whose tall shadows flitted among 
the surrounding crags. 



296 The Oregon Trail 

I found a circle of smokers seated in their usual place; 
that is, on the ground before the lodge of a certain warrior, 
who seemed to be generally known for his social qualities. 
I sat down to smoke a parting pipe with my savage friends. 
That day was the first of August, on w^hich I had promised 
to meet Shaw at Fort Laramie. The Fort was less than two 
days' journey distant, and that my friend need not suffer 
anxiety on my account, I resolved to push forward as rapidly 
as possible to the place of meeting. I went to look after the 
Hail-Storm, and having found him, I offered him a handful 
of hawks'-bells and a paper of vermilion, on condition that he 
would guide me in the morning through the mountains wnthin 
sight of Laramie Creek. 

The Hail-Storm ejaculated "How!" and • accepted the 
gift. Nothing more was said on either side ; the matter was 
settled, and I lay down to sleep in Kongra-Tonga's lodge. 

Long before daylight Raymond shook me by the shoulder. 

''Everything is ready," he said. 

I went out. The morning was chill, damp, and dark; 
and the whole camp seemed asleep. The Hail-Storm sat on 
horseback before the lodge, and my mare Pauline and the 
mule which Raymond rode w^ere picketed near it. We sad- 
dled and made our other arrangements for the journey, but 
before these were completed the camp began to stir, and the 
lodge-coverings fluttered and rustled as the squaws pulled 
them down in preparation for departure. Just as the light 
began to appear we left the ground, passing up through a 
narrow opening among the rocks which led eastward out of 
the meadow. Gaining the top of this passage, I turned round 
and sat looking back upon the camp, dimly visible in the gray 
light of the morning. All w^as alive with the bustle of prepa- 
ration. I turned away, half unwilling to take a final leave 
of my savage associates. We turned to the right, passing 
among the rocks and pine trees so dark that for a while we 
could scarcely see our way. The country in front was wild 



Passage of the Mountains 29/ 

and broken, half hill, half plain, partly open and partly 
covered with woods of pine and oak. Barriers of lofty 
mountains encompassed it; the woods were fresh and cool in 
the early morning; the peaks of the mountains were wreathed 
with mist, and sluggish vapors were entangled among the 
forests upon their sides. At length the black pinnacle of the 
tallest mountain was tipped with gold by the rising sun. 
About that time the Hail-Storm, who rode in front, gave a 
low exclamation. Some large animal leaped up from among 
the bushes, and an elk, as I thought, his horns thrown back 
over his neck, darted past us across the open space and 
bounded like a mad thing away among the adjoining pines. 
Raymond was soon out of his saddle, but before he could 
fire, the animal was full two hundred yards distant. The 
ball struck its mark, though much too low for mortal effect. 
The elk, however, wheeled in its flight, and ran at full speed 
among the trees, nearly at right angles to his former course. 
I fired and broke his shoulder; still he moved on, limping 
down into the neighboring woody hollow, whither the j'oung 
Indian followed and killed him. When we reached the spot 
we discovered him to be no elk, but a black-tailed deer, an 
animal nearly twice the size of a common deer, and quite 
unknown to the East. We began to cut him up ; the reports 
of the rifles had reached the ears of the Indians, and before 
our task was finished several of them came to the spot. Leav- 
ing the hide of the deer to the Hail-Storm, we hung as much 
of the meat as we wanted behind our saddles, left the rest to 
the Indians, and resumed our journey. Meanwhile the vil- 
lage was on its way, and had gone so far that to get in 
advance of it was impossible. Therefore we directed our 
course so as to strike its line of march at the nearest point. 
\n a short time, through the dark trunks of the pines, we 
could see the figures of the Indians as they passed. Once 
more we were among them. They were moving with even 
m.ore than their usual precipitation, crowded close together in 



298 The Oregon Trail 

a narrow pass between rocks and old pine trees. We were on 
the eastern descent of the mountain, and soon came to a rough 
and difficult defile, leading down a very steep declivit}'. The 
whole swarm poured down together, filling the rocky passage- 
w^ay like some turbulent mountain stream. The mountains 
before us were on fire, and had been so for w^eeks. The view 
in front was obscured by a vast dim sea of smoke and vapor, 
while on either hand the tall cliffs, bearing aloft their crest 
of pines, thrust their heads boldly through It, and the sharp 
pinnacles and broken ridges of the mountains beyond them 
were faintly traceable as through a veil. The scene In Itself 
w'as most grand and imposing, but with the savage multitude, 
the armed warriors, the naked children, the gayly appareled 
girls, pouring Impetuously down the heights, it would have 
formed a noble subject for a painter, and only the pen of a 
Scott could have done it justice in description. 

We passed over a burnt tract where the ground was hot 
beneath the horses' feet, and between the blazing sides of two 
mountains. Before long we had descended to a softer 
region, where we found a succession of little valleys watered 
by a stream, along the borders of which grew abundance of 
wild gooseberries and currants, and the children and many 
of the men straggled from the line of march to gather them 
as we passed along. Descending still farther, the view 
changed rapidly. The burning mountains were behind us, 
and through the open valleys in front we could see the ocean- 
like prairie stretching beyond the sight. After passing 
through a line of trees that skirted the brook, the Indians 
filed out upon the plains. I was thirsty and knelt down by 
the little stream to drink. As I mounted again I very care- 
lessly left my rifle among the grass, and my thoughts being 
otherwise absorbed, I rode for some distance before discover- 
ing Its absence. As the reader may conceive, I lost no time in 
turning about and galloping back in search of it. Passing the 
line of Indians, I watched every warrior as he rode by me at 



Passage of the Mountains 299 

a canter, and at length discovered my rifle in the hands of 
one of them, who, on my approaching to claim it, immediately 
gave it up. Having no other means of acknov^ledging the 
obligation, I took off one of my spurs and gave it to him. He 
was greatly delighted, looking upon it as a distinguished mark 
of favor, and immediately held out his foot for me to buckle 
it on. As soon as I had done so, he struck it with all his 
force into the side of his. horse, who gave a violent leap. 
The Indian laughed and spurred harder than before. At 
this the horse shot away like an arrow", amid the screams and 
laughter of the squaws, and the ejaculations of the miCn, who 
exclaimed: ''Washtay! — Good!" at the potent effect of my 
gift. The Indian had no saddle, and nothing In place of a 
bridle except a leather string tied round the horse's jaw. The 
animal was of course wholly uncontrollable, and stretched 
away at full speed over the prairie, till he and his rider van- 
ished behind a distant swell. I never saw" the man again, but 
I presume no harm came to him. An Indian Oxi horseback 
has more lives than a cat. 

The village encamped on a scorching prairie, close to the 
foot of the mountains. The heat was most intense and pene- 
trating. The coverings of the lodges were raised a foot or 
more from the ground, in order to procure some circulation 
of air ; and Reynal thought proper to lay aside his trapper's 
dress of buckskin and assume the very scanty costume of an 
Indian. Thus elegantly attired, he stretched himself in his 
lodge on a buffalo robe, alternately cursing the heat and puff- 
ing at the pipe which he and I passed between us. There 
W"as present also a select circle of Indian friends and relatives. 
A sm.all boiled puppy was served up as a parting feast, to 
which was added, by way of dessert, a wooden bowl of goose- 
berries from the mountains. 

*'Look there," said Reynal, pointing out of the opening 
of his lodge ; "do 5^ou see that line of buttes about fifteen miles 
off? Well, now", do j^ou see that farthest one, with the w"hitc 



300 The Oregon Trail 

speck on the face of it? Do you think you ever saw it 
before?" 

*'It looks to me," said I, "like the hill that we were 
camped under when we were on Laramie Creek, six or eight 
weeks ago." 

"You've hit it," answered Reynal. 

*'Go and bring in the animals, Raymond," said I ; ''we'll 
camp there to-night, and start for the fort in the morning." 

The mare and the mule were soon before the lodge. We 
saddled them, and in the meantime a number of Indians col- 
lected about us. The virtues of Pauline, my strong, fleet, and 
hardy little mare, were well known in camp, and several of 
the visitors were mounted upon good horses w^hich they had 
brought me as presents. I promptly declined their offers, 
since accepting them would have involved the necessity of 
transferring poor Pauline into their barbarous hands. We 
took leave of Reynal, but not of the Indians, who are accus- 
tomed to dispense with such superfluous ceremonies. Leaving 
the camp we rode straight over the prairie toward the w^hite- 
faced bluff, whose pale ridges sw^elled gently against the hori- 
zon like a cloud. An Indian went with us, whose name I for- 
get, though the ugliness of his face and the ghastly width of 
his mouth dwell vividly in my recollection. The antelope 
were numerous, but w^e did not heed them. We rode 
directly toward our destination, over the arid plains and 
barren hills; until, late in the afternoon, half spent with heat, 
thirst, and fatigue, we saw a gladdening sight, the long line 
of trees and the deep gulf that mark the course of Laramie 
Creek. Passing through the growth of huge dilapidated old 
Cottonwood trees that bordered the creek, we rode across 
to the other side. The rapid and foaming waters w^ere filled 
■with fish, playing and splashing in the shallows. As we 
gained the farther bank, our horses turned eagerly to drink, 
and we, kneeling on the sand, follow^ed their example. We 
had not gone far before the scene began to grow familiar. 



Passage of the Mountains 301 

"We are getting near home, Raymond," said I. 

There stood the big tree under which we had encamped 
so long ; there were the white cliffs that used to look down 
upon our tent when it stood at the bend of the creek; there 
was the meadow in which our horses had grazed for weeks, 
and a little farther on, the prairie-dog village where I had 
beguiled many a languid hour in persecuting the unfortunate 
inhabitants. 

"We are going to catch it now," said Raymond, turning 
his broad, vacant face up towards the sky. 

In truth, the landscape, the cliffs and the meadow, the 
stream and the groves, were darkening fast. Black masses 
of cloud were swelling up in the south, and the thunder was 
growling ominously. 

"We will camp there," I said, pointing to a dense grove 
of trees lower down the stream. Raymond and I turned 
toward it, but the Indian stopped and called earnestly after 
us. When we demanded what was the matter, he said that 
the ghosts of two warriors were always among those trees, 
and that if we slept there they would scream and throw 
stones at us all night, and perhaps steal our horses before 
morning. Thinking it as well to humor him, w^e left behind 
us the haunt of these extraordinary ghosts, and passed on 
toward Chugwater, riding at full gallop, for the big drops 
began to patter down. Soon we came in sight of the poplar 
saplings that grew about the mouth of the little stream. We 
leaped to the ground, threw off our saddles, turned our horses 
loose, and drawing our knives, began to slash among the 
bushes to cut twigs and branches for making a shelter against 
the rain. Bending down the taller saplings as they grew, we 
piled the young shoots upon them, and thus made a conven- 
ient penthouse, but all our labor was useless. The storm 
scarcely touched us. Half a mile on our right the rain was 
pouring down like a cataract, and the thunder roared over the 
prairie like a battery of cannon ; while we by good fortune 



302 The Oregon Trail 

received only a few heavy drops from the skirt of the passing 
cloud. The weather cleared and the sun set gloriously. 
Sitting close under our leafy canopy, we proceeded to discuss 
a substantial meal of ivasna which Weah-Washtay had given 
me. The Indian had brought with him his pipe and a bag 
of sho?igsasha; so before lying down to sleep, w^e sat for some 
time smoking together. Previously, however, our wide- 
mouthed friend had taken the precaution of carefully examin- 
ing the neighborhood. He reported that eight men, counting 
them on his fingers, had been encamped there not long before : 
Bisonette, Paul Dorion, Antoine Le Rouge, Richardson, and 
four others whose names he could not tell. All this proved 
strictly correct. By what instinct he had arrived at such 
accurate conclusions, I am utterly at a loss to divine. 

It was still quite dark when I awoke and called Raymond. 
The Indian was already gone, having chosen to go on before 
us to the Fort. Setting out after him, we rode for some time 
in complete darkness, and when the sun at length rose, glow- 
ing like a fiery ball of copper, we were ten miles distant from 
the Fort. At length, from the broken summit of a tall sandy 
bluff we could see Fort LaramJe, miles before us, standing by 
the side of the stream like a little gray speck in the midst of 
the boundless desolation. I stopped my horse, and sat for a 
moment looking down upon it. It seemed to m.e the very 
center of comfort and civilization. We were not long in 
approaching it, for v.e rode at speed the greater rart of the 
wa}^ Laramie Creek still intervened between us and the 
friendly walls. Entering the water at the point where we 
had struck upon the bank, we raised our feet to the saddle 
behind us, and thus, kneeling as it were on horseback, passed 
dry-shod through the swift current. As v»'e rode up the 
bank, a number of men appeared in the gateway. Three of 
them came forward to meet us. In a moment I distinguished 
Shaw ; Henry Chatillon followed with his face of manly sim- 
ph'city and frankness, and Deslauriers came last, with a broad 



Passage of the iMountains 303 

grin of welcome. The meeting was not on either side one of 
mere ceremony. For mj' own part, the change was a most 
agreeable one from the society of savages and men little bet- 
ter .than savages, to that of my gallant and high-minded com- 
panion and our noble-hearted guide. My appearance was 
equally gratifying to Shaw, who was beginning to entertain 
some very uncomfortable surmises concerning me. 

-Bordeaux greeted me very cordially, and shouted to the 
cook. This functionary was a new acquisition, having lately 
come from Fort Pierre w^ith the trading wagons. What- 
ever skill he might have boasted, he had not the most promis- 
ing materials to exercise it upon. He set before me, however, 
a breakfast of biscuit, coffee, and salt pork. It seemed like a 
new phase of existence, to be seated once more on a bench, 
with a knife and fork, a plate and teacup, and something 
resembling a table before me. The coffee seemed delicious, 
and the bread was a most welcome novelty, since for three 
weeks I had eaten scarcely anything but meat, and that for the 
most part without salt. The meal also had the relish of good 
company, for opposite to me sat Shaw in elegant dishabille. 
If one is anxious thoroughly to appreciate the value of a 
congenial companion, he has only to spend a few w^eks by 
himself in an Ogallala village. And if he can contrive to add 
to his seclusion a debilitating and somewhat critical illness, 
his perceptions upon this subject will be rendered considerably 
more vivid. 

Shaw had been upward of two weeks at the Fort. I 
found him established in his old quarters, a large apartment 
usually occupied by the absent bourgeois. In one corner was 
a soft and luxurious pile of excellent buft'alo robes, and here 
I lay down. Shaw brought me three books. 

"Here," said he, "is your Shakspere and Byron, and 
here is the Old Testament, which has as much poetry in it 
as the other two put together." 

I chose the worst of the three, and for the greater pau 



304 The Oregon Trail 

of that day I lay on the buffalo robes, fairly reveling in the 
creations of that resplendent genius which has achieved no 
more signal triumph than that of half beguiling us to forget 
the pitiful and unmanly character of its possessor." 

^The allusion is to Byron. 



CHAPTER XX 

THE LONELY JOURNEY 

On the day of my arrival at Fort Laramie, Shaw and I 
were lounging on two buffalo robes in the large apartment 
hospitably assigned to us; Henry Chatillon also was present, 
busy about the harness and weapons which had been brought 
into the room, and two or three Indians were crouching on 
the floor, eyeing us with their fixed, unwavering gaze. 

"I have been well off here," said Shaw, "in all respects 
but one ; there is no good shongsasha to be had for love or 
money." 

I gave him a small leather bag containing some of excel- 
lent quality, which I had brought from the Black Hills. 
"Now, Henry," said he, "hand me Papin's chopping-board, 
or give it to that Indian, and let him cut the mixture ; they 
understand it better than any white man." 

The Indian, without saving a word, mixed the bark and 
the tobacco in due proportions, filled the pipe and lighted it. 
This done, my companion and I proceeded to deliberate 
on our future course of proceeding; first, however, Shaw 
acquainted me with some incidents which had occurred at the 
fort during my absence. 

About a week previous four men had arrived from 
be5^ond the mountains : Sublette,^ Reddick, and two others. 
Just before reaching the fort they had met a large party 
of Indians, chiefly )-oung men. All of them belonged to 
the village of our old friend Smoke, who, with his whole 
band of adherents, professed the greatest friendship for the 
whites. The travelers therefore approached, and began to 

^William Sublette, a member of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, the 
rival of the American Fur Company. 

305 



306 The Oregon Trail 

converse without the least suspicion. Suddenly, however, 
their bridles were violently seized, and they w^ere ordered to 
dismount. Instead of complying, they struck their horses 
with full force and broke away from the Indians. As they 
galloped off they heard a yell behind them, mixed with a 
burst of derisive laughter, and the reports of several guns. 
None of them were hurt, though Reddick's bridle rein was 
cut by a bullet within an inch of his hand. After this taste 
of Indian hostility they felt for the moment no disposition 
to encounter farther risks. They intended to pursue the 
route southward along the foot of the mountains to Bent's 
Fort; and as our plans coincided with theirs, they proposed 
to join forces. Finding, however, that I did not return, 
they grew impatient of inaction, forgot their late escape, 
and set out without us, promising to w^ait our arrival at 
Bent's Fort. From thence we were to make the long journey 
to the settlements in company, as the path w^as not a little 
dangerous, being infested by hostile Pawnees and Comanches. 
We expected, on reaching Bent's Fort, to find there still 
another re-enforcement. A young Kentuckian of the true 
Kentucky blood, generous, impetuous, and a gentleman 
withal, had come out to the mountains with Russel's party 
of California emigrants. One of his chief objects, as he 
gave out, was to kill an Indian ; an exploit which he after- 
wards succeeded in achieving, much to the jeopardy of our- 
selves and others who had to pass through the country of 
the dead Pawnee's enraged relatives. Having become dis- 
gusted with his emigrant associates he left them, and had 
some time before set out with a party of companions for the 
head of the Arkansas. He sent us previously a letter, inti- 
mating that he would w^iit until we arrived at Bent's Fort, 
and accompany us thence to the settlements. When, how- 
ever, he came to the fort, he found there a party of forty 
men about to make the homeward journey. He wisely pre- 
ferred to avail himself of so strong an escort. Mr. Sublette 



The Lonely Journey 307 

and his companions also set out, in order to overtake this 
company; so that on reaching Bent's Fort, some six weeks 
after, we found ourselves deserted by our allies and thrown 
once more upon our own resources. 

But I am anticipating. When, before leaving the settle- 
ment, we had made inquiries concerning this part of the coun- 
try of General Kearny, Mr. Mackenzie, Captain Wyeth,^ and 
others well acquainted with it, they had all advised us by 
no means to attempt this southward journey with fewer than 
fifteen or twenty men. The danger consists in the chance 
of encountering Indian war parties. Sometimes throughout 
the whole length of the journey (a distance of 350 miles) 
one does not meet a single human being ; frequently, however, 
the route is beset by Arapahoes and other unfriendly tribes; 
in which case the scalp of the adventurer is in imminent peril. 
As to the escort of fifteen or twenty men, such a force of 
whites could at that time scarcely be collected by the whole 
country; and had the case been otherwise, the expense of 
securing them, together with the necessary number of horses, 
would have been extremely heavy. We had resolved, how- 
ever, upon pursuing this southward course. There w^ere, 
indeed, .two other routes from Fort Laramie; but both of 
these were less interesting, and neither was free from danger. 
Being unable therefore to procure the fifteen or twenty men 
recommended, we determined to set out with those we had 
already in our employ: Henry Chatillon, Deslauriers, and 
Raymond. The men themselves made no objection, nor 
would they have made any had the journey been more danger- 
ous ; for Henry was without fear, and the other two without 
thought. 

Shaw and I were much better fitted for this mode of 
traveling than we had been on betaking ourselves to the 
prairies for the first time a few months before. The daily 

'Probably Nathaniel J. Wyeth of Boston, who had invested considerable 
capital in the salmon industry on the Columbia River, and in 1832 had made a 
thrihmg journey with Sublette up the Platte valley. See Inman's Great Salt 
LaUt 1/J.*l. 49-51. 



308 The Oregon Trail 

routine had ceased to be a novelty. All the details of the 
journey and the camp had become familiar to us. We had 
seen life under a new aspect; the human biped had been 
reduced to his primitive condition. We had lived without 
law to protect, a roof to shelter, or garment of cloth to cover 
us. One of us at least had been without bread, and without 
salt to season his food. Our Idea of what Is indispensable to 
human existence and enjoyment had been wonderfully cur- 
tailed, and a horse, a rifle, and a knife seemed to make up 
the whole of life's necessaries. For these once obtained, 
together with the skill to use them, all else that Is essential 
would follow In their train, and a host of luxuries besides. 
One other lesson our short prairie experience had taught us ; 
that of profound contentment in the present, and utter con- 
tempt for what the future might bring forth. 

These principles established, we prepared to leave Fort 
Laramie. On the fourth day of August, early in the after- 
noon, we bade a final adieu to its hospitable gateway. Again 
Shaw and I were riding side by side on the prairie. For the 
first fifty miles we had companions with us: Troche, a little 
trapper, and Rouville, a nondescript In the employ of the 
Fur Company, who were going to join the trader BIsonette 
at his encampment near the head of Horse Creek.^ We rode 
only six or eight mJles that afternoon before we came to a 
little brook traversing the barren prairie. All along Its 
course grew copses of young wild-cherry trees, loaded with 
ripe fruit, and almost concealing the gliding thread of water 
with their dense growth ; while on each side rose swells of 
rich green grass. Here we encamped ; and being much too 
indolent to pitch our tent, w^e flung our saddles on the 
ground, spread a pair of buffalo robes, lay down upon them, 
and began to smoke. Meanwhile, Deslauriers busied himself 
with his hissing frying pan, and Raymond stood guard over 
the band of grazing horses. Deslauriers had an active assist- 
ant in Rouville, who professed great skill in the culinary art, 

^Ivorse Creek, Wvomine. 



The Lonely Journey 309 

and seizing upon a fork, began to lend his zealous aid in 
making ready supper. Indeed, according to his own belief, 
Rouville was a man of universal knowledge, and he lost no 
opportunity to display his manifold accomplishments. He 
had been a circus-rider at St. Louis, and once he rode round 
Fort Laramie on his head, to the utter bewilderment of all 
the Indians. He was also noted as the wit of the fort; and 
as he had considerable humor and abundant vivacity, he 
contributed more that night to the liveliness of the camp 
than all the rest of the party put together. At one instant 
he would be kneeling by Deslauriers, instructing him in the 
true method of frying antelope steaks; then he would come 
and seat himself at our side, dilating upon the orthodox 
fashion of braiding up a horse's tail, telling apocryphal stories 
of how he had killed a buffalo bull with a knife, having 
first cut ofi his tail when at full speed, or relating whimsi- 
cal anecdotes of the bourgeois Papin. At last he snatched 
up a volume of Shakspere that was lying in the grass, and 
halted and stumbled through a line or two to prove that 
he could reajl. He went gamboling about the camp chat- 
tering like some frolicsome ape; and whatever he was 
doing at one moment, the presumption was a sure one that 
he would not be doing it the next. His companion Troche 
sat silently on the grass, not speaking a word, but keeping 
a vigilant eye on a very ugly little Utah squaw, of whom 
he was extremely jealous. 

On the next day we traveled farther, crossing the wide 
sterile basin called Goche's Hole. Toward night we became 
involved among deep ravines ; and being also unable to find 
water, our journey was protracted to a very late hour. On 
the next morning we had to pass a long line of blufFs, 
whose raw sides, wrought upon by rains and storms, were 
of a ghastly w^hiteness most oppressive to the sight. As we 
ascended a gap in these hills, the way was marked by huge 
foot-prints like those of a human giant. They were the 



310 The Oregon Trail 

track of the grizzly bear; and on the previous day also we 
had seen abundance of them along the dry channels of the 
streams we had passed. Immediately after this we were 
crossing a barren plain, spreading in long and gentle undu- 
lations to the horizon. Though the sun was bright, there 
was a light haze in the atmosphere. The distant hills 
assumed strange, distorted forms, and the edge of the horizon 
was continually changing its aspect. Shaw and I were rid- 
ing together, and Henry Chatillon was alone, a few rods 
before us; he stopped his horse suddenly, and turning round 
with the peculiar eager and earnest expression which he 
always wore when excited, he called us to come forward. 
We galloped to his side. Henry pointed toward a black 
speck on the gray swell of the prairie, apparently about a 
mile off. *'It must be a bear," said he; "come, now, we 
shall all have some sport. Better fun to fight him than to 
fight an old buffalo bull; grizzly bear so strong and smart." 

So we all galloped forward together, prepared for a hard 
fight; for these bears, though clumsy in appearance and 
extremely large, are incredibly fierce and active. The swell 
of the prairie concealed the black object from our view. 
Immediately after it appeared again. But now it seemed 
quite near to us; and as we looked at it in astonishment, it 
suddenly separated into two parts, each of which took wing 
and flew away. We stopped our horses and looked round 
at Henry, whose face exhibited a curious mixture of mirth 
and mortification. His hawk's eye had been so completely 
deceived by the peculiar atmosphere that he had mistaken 
two large crows at the distance of fifty rods for a grizzly 
bear a mile off. To the journey's end Henry never heard 
the last of the grizzly bear with wings. 

In the afternoon we came to the foot of a considerable 
hill. As we ascended it Rouville began to ask questions 
concerning our condition and prospects at home, and Shaw 
was edifying him with a minute account of an imaginary 



The Lonely Journey 311 

wife and child, to which he listened with implicit faith. 
Reaching the top of the hill we saw the windings of Horse 
Creek on the plains below us, and a little on the left we 
could distinguish the camp of Bisonette among the trees 
and copses along the course of the stream. Rouville's face 
assumed just then a most ludicrously blank expression. We 
inquired w^hat was the matter; when it appeared that Bison- 
ette had sent him from this place to Fort Laramie with the 
sole object of bringing back a supply of tobacco. Our rat- 
tlebrain friend, from the time of his reaching the fort up to 
the present moment, had entirely forgotten the object of his 
journey, and had ridden a dangerous hundred miles for noth- 
ing. Descending to Horse Creek we forded it, and on the 
opposite bank a solitary Indian sat on horseback under a 
tree. He said nothing, but turned and led the way toward 
the camp. Bisonette had made choice of an admirable posi- 
tion. The stream, with its thick growth of trees, inclosed 
on three sides a wide green meadow, where about forty 
Dakota lodges were pitched in a circle, and beyond them 
half a dozen lodges ^f the friendly Cheyenne. Bisonette 
himself lived in the Indian manner. Riding up to his lodge, 
we found him seated at the head of it, surrounded by vari- 
ous appliances of comfort not common on the prairie. His 
squaw was near him, and rosy children were scrambling 
about in printed-calico gowns ; Paul Dorion also, with his 
leathery face and old white capote, was seated in the lodge, 
together with Antoine Le Rouge, a half-breed Pawnee, 
Sibille, a trader, and several other white men. 

"It will do you no harm," said Bisonette, "to stay here 
with us for a day or two, before you start for the Pueblo."^ 

We accepted the invitation, and pitched our tent on a 
rising ground above the camp and close to the edge of the 
trees. Bisonette soon Invited us to a feast, and we suffered 

lA small trading post, built about 1840, at the site of the present Pueblo, 
Colorado, and known as "the Pueblo." See p. 327, post. 



312 • The Oregon Trail 

abundance of the same sort of attention from his Indian 
associates. The reader may possibly recollect that when I 
joined the Indian village, beyond the Black Hills, I found 
that a few families were absent, having declined to pass the 
mountains along with the rest. The Indians in Bisonette's 
camp consisted of these very families, and many of them came 
to me that evening to inquire after their relatives and friends. 
They were not a little mortified to learn that while they, 
from their own timidity and indolence, were almost in a 
starving condition, the rest of the village had provided their 
lodges for the next season, laid in a great stock of provisions, 
and were living in abundance and luxury. Bisonette's com- 
panions had been sustaining themselves for some time on 
wild cherries, which the squaws pounded up, stones and all, 
and spread on buffalo robes to dry in the sun ; they were 
then eaten without further preparation, or used as an ingre- 
dient in various delectable compounds. 

On the next day the camp was in connection with a new 
arrival. A single Indian had come with his family the whole 
way from the Arkansas. As he passed among the lodges he 
put on an expression of unusual dignity and importance, and 
gave out that he had brought great news to tell the whites. 
Soon after the squawks had erected his lodge, he sent his little 
son to invite all the white men, and all the more distinguished 
Indians, to a feast. The guests arrived and sat wedged 
together, shoulder to shoulder, within the hot and suffocat- 
ing lodge. The Stabber, for that was our entertainer's name, 
had killed an old buffalo bull on his way. This veteran's 
boiled tripe, tougher than leather, formed the main item of the 
repast. For the rest, it consisted of wild cherries and grease 
boiled together in a large copper kettle. The feast was dis- 
tributed, and for a moment all was silent, strenuous exertion ; 
then each guest, with one or two exceptions, however, turned 
his wooden dish bottom upward to prove that he had done 
full justice to his entertainer's hospitality. The Stabber next 



The Lonely Journey 313 

produced his chopping board, on which he prepared the mix- 
ture for smoking, and filled several pipes, which circulated 
among the company. This done, he seated himself upright 
on his couch, and began with much gesticulation to tell his 
story. I will not repeat his childish jargon. It was sc 
entangled, like the greater part of an Indian's stories, with 
absurd and contradictory details, that it was almost impos- 
sible to disengage from it a single particle of truth. All that 
we could gather was the following: 

He had been on the Arkansas, and there he had seen six 
great war parties of whites. He had never believed before 
that the whole world contained half so manj^ w^hite men. 
They all had large horses, long knives, and short rifles, and 
some of them were attired alike in the most splendid war 
dresses he had ever seen. From this account it was clear 
that bodies of dragoons, and perhaps also of volunteer cav- 
alry, had been passing up the Arkansas. The Stabber had 
also seen a great many of the white lodges of the Meneaska, 
drawn by their long-horned buffalo. These could be nothing 
else than covered ox-wagons, used no doubt in transporting 
stores for the troops. Soon after seeing this, our host had 
met an Indian who had lately com6 from among the Coman- 
ches. The latter had told him that all the Mexicans had 
gone out to a great buffalo hunt, and that the Americans had 
hid themselves in a ravine. When the Mexicans had shot 
away all their arrow^s, the Americans had fired their guns, 
raised their war-whoop, rushed out, and killed them all. We 
could only infer from this that war had been declared with 
Mexico, and a battle fought in which the Americans were 
victorious. When, some w^eeks after, w^e arrived at the 
Pueblo, we heard of General Kearny's march up the Arkan- 
sas and of General Taylor's victories at Matamoras.* 

iln July, 1846, Kearny concentrated a force of 1800 men at Bent's Fort, 
and from there advanced to Santa Fe, New Mexico, which was occupied August 
18. See p. 378, post. May 8 and 9. in the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de 
la Palma, Taylor drove the Mexicans across the Rio Grande, and then advanced 
from Matamoras to Monterey. 



314 The Oregon Trail - 

As the sun was setting that evening a great crowd gath- * 
ered on the plain by the side of our tent, to try the speed of 
their horses. These were of every shape, size, and color. 
Some came from California, some from the States, some from 
among the mountains, and some from the wild bands of the 
prairie. They were of every hue — white, black, red, and gray, 
or mottled and clouded with a strange variety of colors. They 
all had a wild and startled look, very different from the staid 
and sober aspect of a well-bred city steed. Those most noted 
for swiftness and spirit were decorated with eagle-feathers 
dangling from their manes and tails. Fifty or sixty Dakota 
were present, wrapped from head to foot in their heavy robes 
of whitened hide. There were also a considerable number of 
the Cheyenne, many of whom wore gaudy Mexican ponchos 
swathed around their shoulders, but leaving the right arm 
bare. Mingled among the crowd of Indians were a number 
of Canadians, chiefly in the employ of Bisonette; men whose 
home is the w^ilderness, and who love the camp fire better 
than the domestic hearth. They are contented and happy 
in the midst of hardship, privation, and danger. Their cheer- 
fulness and gayety is irrepressible, and no people on earth 
understand better how "to dafi the world aside and bid it 
pass.'" Besides these w^ere two or three half-breeds, a race 
of rather extraordinary composition, being according to the 
common saying half Indian, half w^hite man, and half devil. 
Antoine Le Rouge was the most conspicuous among them, 
with his loose pantaloons and his fluttering calico shirt. A 
handkerchief was bound round his head to confine his black 
snaky hair, and his small eyes twinkled beneath it with a 
mischievous luster. He had a fine cream-colored horse whose 
speed he must needs try along with the rest. So he threw oH 

i"Where is his son, 
The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales, 
And his comrades, that daff the world aside, 

And bid it pass?" 
— Shakspere, King Henry IV, part I, act IV, scene I. 



The Lonely Journey 315 

the rude high-peaked saddle, and substituting a piece of buf- 
falo robe, leaped lightly into his seat. The space was cleared, 
the word was given, and he and his Indian rival darted out 
like lightning from among the crowd, each stretching forward 
over his horse's neck and plying his heavy Indian whip with 
might and main. A moment, and both were lost in the 
gloom; but Antoine soon came riding back victorious, exult- 
ingly patting the neck of his quivering and panting horse. 

About midnight, as I lay asleep wrapped in a buffalo robe 
on the ground by the side of our cart, Raymond came up and 
woke me. Something, he said, was going forward which I 
would like to see. Looking down into the camp I saw, on the 
farther side of it, a great number of Indians gathered around 
a fire, the bright glare of which made them visible through 
the thick darkness; while from the midst of them proceeded 
a loud, measured chant which would have killed Paganini^ 
outright, broken occasionally by a burst of sharp j^ells. I 
gathered the robe around me, for the night was cold, and 
walked down to the spot. The dark throng of Indians was so 
dense that they almost intercepted the light of the flame. As 
I was pushing among them with but little ceremony, a chief 
interposed himself, and I was given to understand that a white 
man must not approach the scene of their solemnities too 
closel)^ By passing round to the other side, where there was 
a little opening in the crowd, I could see clearly what was 
going forward, without intruding my unhallowed presence 
into the inner circle. The society of the "Strong Hearts' 
were engaged in one of their dances. The Strong Hearts are 
a warlike association, comprising men of both the Dakota 
and Cheyenne nations, and entirely composed, or supposed to 
be so, of young braves of the highest mettle. Its fundamental 
principle is the admirable one of never retreating from any 
enterprise once commenced. All these Indian associations have 
a tutelary spirit. That of the Strong Hearts is embodied 

^Niccolo Paganini, a famous violinist, b. 1784, d. 1840. 



316 The Oregon Trail 

in the fox, an animal which a white man w^ould hardly have 
selected for a similar purpose, though his subtle and cautious 
character agrees w^ell enough w^ith an Indian's notions of 
what is honorable in warfare. The dancers were circling 
round and round the fire, each figure brightly illumined at 
one moment by the yellow light, and at the next drawn in 
blackest shadow as it passed between the flame and the 
spectator. They would imitate with the most ludicrous 
exactness the motions and the voice of their sly patron the 
fox. Then a startling j-ell would be given. Many other 
warriors would leap into the ring, and with faces upturnv^d 
toward the starless sky, they would all stamp, and whoop, 
and brandish their weapons like so many frantic devils. 

Until the next afternoon we w^ere still remaining with 
Bisonette. My companion and I with our three attendants 
then left his camp for the Pueblo, a distance of three hun- 
dred miles, and we supposed the journey would occupy 
about a fortnight. During this time we all earnestly hoped 
that we might not meet a single human being, for should we 
encounter any, they would in all probability be enemies, fero- 
cious robbers and murderers, in whose eyes our rifles would 
be our only passports. For the first two days nothing worth 
mentioning took place. On the third morning, however, 
an untoward incident occurred. We were encamped by the 
side of a little brook in an extensive hollow of the plain. 
Deslauriers was up long before daylight, and before he began 
to prepare breakfast he turned loose all the horses, as in duty 
bound. There w^as a cold mist clinging close to the ground, 
and by the time the rest of us were awake the animals w^ere 
invisible. It was only after a long and anxious search that 
we could discover by their tracks the direction they had 
taken. They had all set off for Fort Laramie, following the 
guidance of a mutinous old mule, and though many of them 
were hobbled they had traveled three miles before they could 
be overtaken and driven back. 



4 



The Lonely Journey 317 

For the following two or three days we were passing 
over an arid desert. The only vegetation was a few tufts 
of short grass, dried and shriveled by the heat. There was 
an abundance of strange insects and reptiles. Huge crickets, 
black and bottle green, and wingless grasshoppers of the 
most extravagant dimensions, were tumbling about our horses' 
feet, and lizards without numbers were darting like lightning 
among the tufts of grass. The most curious animal, how- 
ever, w^as that commonly called the horned frog. I caught 
one of them and consigned him to the care of Deslauriers, 
who tied him up in a moccasin. About a month after this I 
examined the prisoner's condition, and finding him still lively 
and active, I provided him with a cage of buffalo hide, which 
was hung up in the cart. In this manner he arrived safelj^ 
at the settlements. From thence he traveled the whole way 
to Boston packed closely in a trunk, being regaled with fresh 
air regularly every night. When he reached his destination 
he w^as deposited under a glass case, where he sat for some 
months in great tranquillity and composure, alternately dilat- 
ing and contracting his white throat to the admiration of 
his visitors. At length, one morning, about the middle of 
winter, he gave up the ghost. His death was attributed to 
starvation, a very probable conclusion, since for six months 
he had taken no food whatever, though the sympathy of his 
juvenile admirers had tempted his palate with a great variety 
of delicacies. We found also animals of a somewhat larger 
growth. The number of prairie dogs was absolutely astound- 
ing. Frequently the hard and dry prairie would be thickly 
covered, for many miles together, with the little mounds 
which thej?^ make around the mouth of their burrows, and 
small squeaking voices yelping at us as we passed along. The 
noses of the inhabitants would be just visible at the mouth of 
their holes, but no sooner was their curiosity satisfied than 
they w^ould instantly vanish. Some of the bolder dogs — ■ 
though in fact they are no dogs at all, but little mairaots 



318 The Oregon Trail 

rather smaller than a rabbit — would sit yelping at us on the 
top of their mounds, jerking their tails emphatically with 
every shrill cry they uttered. As the danger drew nearer 
they w^ould wheel about, toss their heels into the air, and dive 
in a twinkling down into their burrows. Toward sunset, 
and especially if rain were threatening, the whole community 
would make their appearance above ground. We would see 
them gathered In large knots around the burrow of some 
favorite citizen. There they would all sit erect, their tails 
spread out on the ground, and their paws hanging down 
before their white breasts, chattering and squeaking with the 
utmost vivacity upon some topic of common interest, while 
the proprietor of the burrow^ with his head just visible on 
the top of his mound, would sit looking down w^ith a com- 
placent countenance on the enjoyment of his guests. Mean- 
while, others would be running about from burrow to burrow, 
as if on some errand of the last importance to their subter- 
ranean commonwealth. The snakes are apparently the prairie 
do?s' worst enemies ; at least I think too w^ell of the latter to 
suppose that they associate on friendly terms w^ith these slimy 
intruders, who may be seen at all times basking among their 
holes, into which they always retreat when disturbed. Small 
owls, w^ith wise and grave countenances, also make their 
abode wnth the prairie dogs, though on what terms they live 
together I could never ascertain. The manners and customs, 
rhe political and domestic economy of "these little marmots, are 
worthy of closer attention than one is able to give when push- 
ing -by forced marches through their country, with his 
thoughts engrossed by objects of greater moment. 

On the fifth day after leaving Bisonette's camp we saw% 
late in the afternoon, what we supposed to be a considerable 
stream, but on our approaching it we found to our mortifica- 
tion nothing but a dry bed of sand into w^hich all the w^ater 
had sunk and disappeared. We separated, some riding In one 
direction and some in another along its course. Still we found 



The Lonely Journey 319 

no traces of water, not even so much as a wet spot in the sand. 
The old Cottonwood trees that grew along the bank, lament- 
ably abused by lightning and tempest, were withering with the 
drought, and on the dead limbs, at the summit of the tallest, 
half a dozen crows were hoarsely cawing like birds of evil 
omen as they were. We had no alternative but to keep on. 
There was no w^ater nearer than the South Fork of the Platte, 
about ten miles distant. We moved forward, angry and 
silent, over a desert as flat as the outspread ocean. 

The sky had been obscured since the morning by thin 
mists and vapors, but now vast piles of clouds were gathered 
together in the west. They rose to a great height above the 
horizon, and looking up toward them I distinguished one mass 
darker than the rest and of a peculiar conical form. I hap- 
pened to look again and still could see it as before. At some 
moments it was dimly seen, at others its outline was sharp and 
distinct; but while the clouds around it were shifting, chang- 
ing, and dissolving away, it still towered aloft in the midst of 
them, fixed and immovable. It must, thought I, be the sum- 
mit of a mountain, and yet its height staggered me. My con- 
clusion was right, however. It was Long's Peak,^ once 
believed to be one of the highest of the Rocky Mountain 
chain, though more recent discoveries have proved the con- 
trary. The thickening gloom soon hid it from view and we 
never saw it again, for on the following day and for some 
time after, the air was so full of mist that the view of distant 
objects was entirely intercepted. 

It grew very late. Turning from our direct course we 
made for the river at its nearest point, though in the utter 
darkness it was not easy to direct our way with much pre- 
cision. Raymond rode on one side and Henry on the other. 
We could hear each of them shouting that he had come upon 
a deep ravine. We steered at random between Scylla and 

^Long's Peak attains a height of 14,271 feet. There are numerous other 
peaks of greater altitude, the highest being in the Cascade Range. 



320 The Oreg(3n Trail 

Charybdis/ and soon after became, as it seemed, inextricably 
involved with deep chasms all around us, while the darkness 
was such that we could not see a rod in any direction. We 
partially extricated ourselves by scrambling, cart and all, 
through a shallow ravine. We came next to a steep descent, 
dow^n which we plunged without well knowing what was at 
the bottom. There was a gr-eat crackling of sticks and dry 
twigs. Over our heads were certain large shadowy objects, 
and in front something like the faint gleaming of a dark 
sheet of water. Raymond ran his horse against a tree ; 
Henry alighted, and feeling on the ground declared that 
there was grass enough for the horses. Before taking off 
his saddle each man led his own horses down to the water 
in the best way he could. Then picketing two or three of 
the evil-disposed, we turned the rest loose and lay down 
among the dry sticks to sleep. In the morning we found 
ourselves close to the South Fork of the Platte, on a spot 
surrounded by bushes and rank grass. Compensating our- 
selves with a hearty breakfast for the ill fare of the previous 
night, we set forward again on our journey. W'hen only 
two or three rods from the camp I saw Shaw stop his mule, 
level his gun, and after a long aim fire at some object in the 
grass. Deslauriers next jumped forward and began to dance 
about, belaboring the unseen enemy with a whip. Then he 
stooped down and drew out of the grass by the neck an 
enormous rattlesnake, with his head completely shattered by 
Shawn's bullet. As Deslauriers held him out at arm's length 
with an exulting grin, his tail, which still kept slowly writh- 
ing about, almost touched the ground, and the body in the 
largest part was as thick as a stout man's arm. He had 
fourteen rattles, but the end of his tail was blunted as if he 
could once have boasted of many more. From this time 
till we reached the Pueblo we killed at least four or five of 

^A rock on which dwelt Scylla, a monster, and a whirlpool into which Charyb- 
dis had been metamorphosed, imperilling the passage of the strait between Italy 
and Sicily. 



The Lonely Journey 321 

these snakes everj^ day, as they lay coiled and rattling on the 
hot sand. Shaw was the St. Patrick of the party, and when- 
ever he or any one else killed a snake he always pulled off 
his tail and stored it away in his bullet-pouch, which was 
soon crammed with an edifying collection of rattles, great 
and small. Deslauriers, with his whip, also came in for a 
share of the praise. A day or two after this he triumph- 
antly produced a small snake about a span and a half long, 
with one infant rattle at the end of his tail. 

We forded the South Fork of the Platte. On its farthei 
bank were the traces of a very large camp of Arapahoes, 
The ashes of some three hundred fires were visible among ^ 
the scattered trees, together with the remains of sweating 
lodges^ and all the other appurtenances of a permanent camp, 
The place however had been for some months deserted. A 
icw miles farther on we found more recent signs of Indians; 
tlie trail of t^vo or three lodges, which had evidently passed 
the day before, where every foot-print was perfectly distinct 
in the dry, dusty soil. We noticed in particular the track 
of one moccasin, upon the sole of which its economical pro- 
prietor had placed a large patch. These signs gave us but 
little uneasiness, as the number of the warriors scarcely 
exceeded that of our ow^n part}^ At noon we rested under 
the walls of a large fort, built in these solitudes some years 
since by M. St. Vrain. It was now abandoned and fast fall- 
ing into ruin. The walls of unbaked bricks were cracked 
from top to bottom. Our horses recoiled in terror from the 
neglected entrance, where the heavy . gates were torn from 
their hinges and flung down. The area within was over- 
grown with weeds, and the long ranges of apartments, once 
occupied by the motley concourse of traders, Canadians, and 
squaws, were now miserably dilapidated. Twelve miles 
farther on, near the spot where we encamped, were the 

lA small, closely covered structure in which a sick person was placed, and a 
[(•re kindled to produce sweating. 



322 The Oregon Trail 

remains of still another fort, standing in melancholy deser- 
tion and neglect. 

Early on the following morning we made a startling 
discovery. We passed close by a large deserted encamp- 
ment of Arapahoes. There were about fifty fires still smol- 
dering on the ground, and it- was evident from numerous 
signs that the Indians must have left the place within two 
hours of our reaching it. Their trail crossed our own at 
right angles, and led in the direction of a line of hills half 
a mile on our left. There were women and children in the 
party, which would have greatly diminished the danger of 
encountering them. Henry Chatillon examined the encamp- 
ment and the trail with a very professional and businesslike 
air. 

"Supposing we had met them, Henry?" said I. 

"Why," said he, "we hold out our hands to them, and 
give them all we've got ; they take away everything, and 
then I believe they no kill us. Perhaps," added he, looking 
up with a quiet, unchanged face, "perhaps we no let them rob 
us. Maybe before they come near, we have a chance to get 
into a ravine, or under the bank of the river ; then, 5 ou 
know% we fight them." 

About noon on that day we reached Cherry Creek. 
Here was a great abundance of wild cherries, plums, goose- 
berries, and currants. The stream, however, like most of 
the others which we passed, was dried up with the heat, 
and we had to dig holes in the sand to find water for our- 
selves and our horses. Two days after, we left the banks 
of the creek which we had been following for some time, 
and began to cross the high dividing ridge which separates 
the waters of the Platte from those of the Arkansas. The 
scenery w^as altogether changed. In place of the burning 
plains we w^ere passing now through rough and savage 
glens, and among hills crowned with a dreary growth of 
pines. We encamped among these solitudes on the night 



The Lonely Journey 323 

of the sixteenth of August. A tempest was threatening. 
The sun went down among volumes of jet-black cloud edged 
with a bloody red. But in spite of these portentous signs, 
- we neglected to put up the tent, and being extremely fatigued, 
lay down on the ground and fell asleep. The storm broke 
about midnight, and we erected the tent amid darkness and 
confusion. In the morning all was fair again, and Pike's 
Peak, white with snow, w^as towering above the wilderness 
afar off. 

We pushed through an extensive tract of pine woods. 
Large black squirrels were leaping among the branches. 
From the farther edge of this forest we saw the prairie 
again, hollowed out before us into a vast basin, and about a 
mile in front we could discern a little black speck moving 
upon its surface. It could be nothing but a buffalo. Henry 
primed his rifle afresh and galloped forward. To the left of 
the animal was a low rocky mound, of which Henry availed 
himself in making his approach. After a short time we 
heard the faint report of the rifle. The bull, mortally 
wounded from a distance of nearly three hundred yards, 
ran wildly round and round in a circle. Shaw and I then 
galloped forward, and passing him as he ran, foaming w^ith 
rage and pain, we discharged our pistols into his side. Once 
or twice he rushed furiously upon us, but his strength was 
rapidly exhausted. Down he fell on his knees. For one 
instant he glared up at his enemies with burning eyes 
through his black tangled mane, and then rolled over on 
his side. Though gaunt and thin, he was larger and heavier 
than the largest ox. Foam and blood flew together from 
his nostrils as he lay bellowing and pawing the ground, 
tearing up grass and earth with his hoofs. His sides rose 
and fell like a vast pair of bellows, the blood spouting up 
in jets from the bullet-holes. Suddenly his glaring eyes 
became like a lifeless jelly. He lay motionless on the ground. 
Henry stooped over him, and making an incision with his 



324 The Oregon Trail 

knife, pronounced the meat too rank and tough for use; -so, 
disappointed in our hopes of an addition to our stock of 
provisions, we rode awa)' and left the carcass to the wolve:.. 

In the afternoon we saw the mountains rising like a 
gigantic wall at no great distance on our right. "Dcs 
sauvages! des sauvages!"^ exclaimed Deslauriers, looking 
round with a frightened face, and pointing w^ith his whip 
toward the foot of the mountains. In fact, we could see at 
a distance a number of little black specks, like- horsemen in 
rapid motion. Henr}' Chatillon, with Shaw and myself, 
galloped toward them to reconnoiter, when to our amuse- 
ment we saw the supposed Arapahoes resolved into the black 
tops of somiC pine trees which grew along a ravine. The 
summits of these pines, just visible above the verge of the 
prairie, and seeming to move as we ourselves were advanc- 
ing, looked exactly like a line of horsemen. 

We encamped among ravines and hollows through which 
a little brook was foaming angrily. Before sunrise \n the 
morning the snOw-covered mountains were beautifully tinged 
with a delicate rose color. A noble spectacle awaited us as 
we moved forward. Six or eight miles on our right, Pike's 
Peak and his giant brethren rose out of the level prairie, as 
if springing from the bed of the ocean. From their summits 
down to the plain below they were involved in a mantle of 
clouds, in restless motion, as if urged by strong w^inds. For 
one instant some snovry peak, towering in awful solitude, 
would be disclosed to view. As the clouds broke along the 
mountain, we could see the dreary forests, the tremendous 
precipices, the white patches of snow, the gulfs and chasms 
as black as night, all revealed for an instant and then dis- 
appearing from the view. One could not but recall the 
stanza of "Childe Harold": 

^"Savages! savages'" 



The Lonely Journey 325 

Morn dawns, and with it stern Albania's hills, 

Dark Suii's rocks, and Pindus' inland peak, 

Robed half in mist, bedewed with snowy rills, 

Array'd in many a dun and purple streak, 

Arise; and, as the clouds along them break, ' 

Disclose the dwelling of the mountaineer: 

Here roams the wolf, the eagle whets his beak. 

Birds, beasts of prey, and wilder men appear. 

And gathering storms around convulse the closing year/ 

Every line save one of this description was more than 
verified here. There w^ere no "dwellings of the moun- 
taineer" among these heights. Fierce savages, restlessly 
wandering through summer and winter, alone Invade them. 
''Their hand is against every man, and every man's hand 
against them."^ 

On the day after, we had left the mountains at some 
distance. A black cloud descended upon them, and a tre- 
mendous explosion of thunder followed, reverberating among 
the precipices. In a few moments everything grew black and 
the rain poured down like a cataract. We got under an 
old Cottonwood tree which stood by the side of a stream, 
and waited there till the rage of the torrent had passed. 

The clouds opened at the point where they first had 
gathered, and the whole sublime congregation of m.ountalns 
was bathed at once In warm sunshine. They seemed more 
like some luxurious vision of Eastern^ romance than like a 
reality of that wilderness; all were melted together Into a 
soft delicious blue, as voluptuous as the sky of Naples or 
the transparent sea that washes the sunny cliffs of Capri. 
On the left the whole sky was still of an Inky blackness; 
but two concentric rainbows stood In brilliant relief against 
It, while far in front the ragged cloud still streamed before 
the wind, and the retreating thunder muttered angrily. 

Through that afternoon and the next morning we were 

'From Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto II, lines 370-378. 

2See Genesis, XVI, 12. 

^Oriental. 



326 The Oregon Trail 

passing down the banks of the stream called La Fontaine 
qui Bouiile/ from the boiling spring whose waters flow into 
it. When we stopped at noon, we w^ere within six or eight 
miles of the Pueblo. Setting out again, we found by the 
fresh tracks that a horseman had just been out to reconnoiter 
us ; he had circled half round the camp, and then galloped 
back full speed for the Pueblo. What made him so shy of 
us we could not conceive. After an hour's ride we reached 
the edge of a hill, from which a welcome sight greeted us. 
The Arkansas ran along the valley below, among woods and 
groves, and closely nestled in the midst of wide cornfields 
and green meadows where cattle were grazing rose the low 
mud walls of the Pueblo. 

iThe Fontaine qui Bouille [Boiling Spring] enters the Arkansas at Pueblo, 
Colorado. The stream derives its name from two mineral springs near its source, 
some sixty miles distant 



CHAPTER XXI 

THE PUEBLO AND BENT's FORT , 

We approached the gate of the Pueblo. It was a 
wretched species of fort of most primitive construction, being 
nothing more than a large square inclosure, surrounded by 
a wail of mud, miserably cracked and dilapidated. The 
slender pickets that surmounted it were half broken down, 
and the gate dangled on its wooden hinges so loosely, that 
to open or shut it seemed likely to fling it down altogether. 
Two or three squalid Mexicans, w^ith their broad hats, and 
their vile faces overgrown with hair, were lounging about 
the bank of the river in front of it. They disappeared as they 
saw us approach ; and as we rode up to the gate a light active 
little figure came out to meet us. It was our old friend 
Richard. He had come from Fort Laramie on a trading 
expedition to Taos ; but finding, when he reached the Pueblo, 
that the war would prevent his going farther, he was quietly 
waiting till the conquest of the country should allow him 
to proceed. He seemed to consider himself bound to do the 
honors of the place. Shaking us warmly by the hand, he 
led the w^ay into the area. 

Here we saw his large Santa Fe w^agons standing 
together. A few squaws and Spanish women, and a few- 
Mexicans, as mean and miserable as the place itself, were 
lazily sauntering about. Richard conducted us to the state 
apartment of the Pueblo, a small mud room, very neatly 
finished, considering the material, and garnished with a 
crucifix, a looking-glass, a picture of the Virgin, and a rusty 
horse-pistol. There were no chairs, but instead of them a 
number of chests and boxes ranged about the room. There 
v/as another room beyond, less sumptuously decorated, and 

327 



328 The Oregon Trail 

here three or four Spanish girls, one of them very prett)^, 
were baking cakes at a mud fireplace in the corner. They 
brought out a poncho, which they spread upon the floor by 
way of table-cloth. A supper which seemed to us luxurious 
was soon laid out upon it, and folded buffalo robes were 
placed around it to receive the guests. Two or three Ameri- 
cans, besides ourselves, were present. We sat down Turkish 
fashion, and began to inquire the news. Richard told us 
that, about three wrecks before. General Kearny's army had 
left Bent's Fort to march against Santa Fe; that when last 
heard from they were approaching the mountainous defiles 
that led to the city. One of the Americans produced a 
dingy new^spaper, containing an account of the battles of 
Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma. While we were dis- 
cussing these matters, the doorway was darkened hf a tall, 
shambling fellow, who stood w^ith his hands in his pockets 
taking a leisurely survey of the premises before he entered. 
He wore brown homespun pantaloons, much too short for 
his legs, and a pistol and bowie knife stuck in his belt. His 
head and one eye were enveloped in a huge bandage of white 
linen. Having completed his observations, he came slouch- 
ing in and sat down on a chest. Eight or ten more of the 
same stamp followed, and very coolly arranging themselves 
about the room, began to stare at the company. Shaw and 
I looked at each other. We were forcibly reminded of 
the Oregon emigrants, though these unwelcome visitors had 
a certain glitter of the eye, and a compression of the lips, 
which distinguished them from our old acquaintances of 
the prairie. They began to catechise us at once, inquiring 
whence we had come, what we meant to do next, and what 
were our future prospects in life. 

The m^an with the bandaged head had met with an 
untoward accident a few days before. He was going down 
to the river to bring water, and was pushing through the 
young willows which covered the low ground, when he 



The Pueblo and Bent's Fort 329 

came unawares upon a grizzly bear, which, having just 
eaten a buffalo bull, had lain down to sleep off the meal. 
The bear rose on his hind legs, and gave the intruder such a 
blow with his paw that he laid his forehead entirely bare, 
clawed off the front of his scalp, and narrowly missed 
one of his eyes. Fortunately he was not in a very pugna- 
cious mood, being surfeited with his late meal. The man's 
companions, who were close behind, raised a shout and the 
bear walked away, crushing down the w^illow^s in his leis- 
urely retreat. 

These men belonged to a party of Mormons" who, out 
of a w^ell-grounded fear of the other emigrants, had post- 
poned leaving the settlements until all the rest were gone. 
On account of this delay they did not reach Fort Laramie 
until it w^as too late to continue their journey to California. 
Hearing that there was good land at the head of the 
Arkansas, they crossed oyer under the guidance of Richard, 
and w^ere now preparing to spend the winter at a spot about 
half a mile from the Pueblo. 

When we took leave of Richard, it was near sunset. 
Passing out of the gate, we could look down the little valley 
of the Arkansas ; a beautiful scene, and doubly so to our 
eyes, so long accustomed to deserts and mountains. Tall 
woods lined the river, with green meadows on either hand ; 
and high bluffs, quietly basking in the sunlight, flanked the 
narrow valley. A Mexican on horseback was driving a herd 
of cattle toward the gate, and our little white tent, which 
the men had pitched under a large tree in the meadow, made 
a very pleasing feature in the scene. When v/e reached it, 
we found that Richard had sent a Mexican to bring us an 
abundant supply of green corn and vegetables, and invite 
us to help ourselves to whatever we wished from the fields 
around the Pueblo. 

The inhabitants were in daily apprehension of an inroad 
from more formidable consumers than ourselves. Every 



330 The Oregon Trail 

3ear at the time when the corn begins to ripen, the 'Arapa- 
hoes, to the number of several thousands, come and encamp 
around the Pueblo. The handful of white men, who are 
entirely at the mercy of this sw^arm of barbarians, choose 
to make a merit of necessity; they come forward very cor- 
dially, shake them by the hand, and intimate that the harvest 
is entirely at their disposal. The Arapahoes take them at 
their word, help themselves most liberally, and usually turn 
their horses into the cornfields afterward. They have the 
foresight, however, to leave enough of the corps untouched 
to serve as an inducement for planting the fields again for 
their benefit in the next spring. 

The hum.an race in this part of the world is separated 
into three divisions, arranged in the order of their merits: 
white men, Indians, and Mexicans; to the latter of whom 
the honorable title of "whites" is by no means conceded. 

In spite of the w^arm sunset of that evening, the next 
morning w^as a dreary and cheerless one. It rained steadily, 
clouds resting upon the very treetops. We crossed the river 
to visit the Mormon settlement. As we passed through the 
water, several trappers on horseback entered it from the 
ether side. Their buckskin frocks were soaked through by 
the rain, and clung fast to their limbs with a most clammy 
and uncomfortable look. The water was trickling down 
their faces, and dropping from the ends of their rifles, and 
from the traps which each carried at the pommel of his 
saddle. Horses and all, they had a most disconsolate and 
woebegone appearance, wdiich w^e could not help laughing 
at, forgetting how often we ourselves had been in a similar 
plight. 

After half an hour's riding we saw the' white wagons 
of the Mormons drawn up among the trees. Axes were 
sounding, trees were falling, and log-huts going up along the 
edge of the w^oods and upon the adjoining meadow. As we 
came up the Mormons left their w^ork and seated them- 



The Pueblo and Bent's Fort 331 

selves on the timber around us, when they began earnestly 
to discuss points of theology, complain of the ill-usage they 
had received from the "Gentiles," and sound a lamentation 
over the loss of their great temple at Nauvoo/ After remain- 
ing with them an hour we rode back to our camp, happy 
that the settlements had been delivered from the presence 
of such blind and desperate fanatics. 

On the morning after this we left the Pueblo for Bent's 
Fort. The conduct of Ra}'mond had lately been less satis- 
factory than before, and w^e had discharged him as soon as 
we arrived at the former place ; so that the party, ourselves 
included, w-as now reduced to four. There vvas some uncer- 
tainty as to our future course. The trail between Bent's 
Fort and the settlem.ents, a distance computed at six hundred 
miles, was at this time in a dangerous state ; for since the 
passage of General Kearny's armxy, great numbers of hostile 
Indians, chiefly Pawnees and Comanches, had gathered about 
some parts of it. A little after this time they became so 
numerous and audacious that scarcely a single party, how^ever 
large, passed between the fort and the frontier without some 
token of their hostility. The newspapers of the tim.e suffi- 
ciently display this state of things. Many m.en were killed, 
and great numbers of horses and mules carried off. Not 
long since I met with the gentleman who, during the autumn, 
came from Santa Fe to Bent's Fort, where he found a party 
of seventy men who thought themselves too weak to go down 
to the settlements alone, and were waiting there for a 
re-enforcement. Though this excessive timidity fully proves 
the ignorance and credulity of the men, it may also evince 
the state of alarm which prevailed in the country. When we 
were there in the month of August, the danger^had not 

^Nauvoo, the "holy city" of the Mormons, was founded in 1840, and by the 
end of that year had a population of 15,000. The site was on the Mississippi, 
in Illinois, opposite Montrose, Iowa. The great temple, built of stone, cost 
nearly $1,000,000. In 1845 the Mormons were expelled from Nauvoo and mi- 
grated to Utah. The temple was partially destroyed by fire in 1848, and the 
stone was taken for building purposes by the new settlers. 



/ 



332 The Oregon Trail 

become so great. There was nothing very attractive in the 
neighborhood. We supposed, moreover, that we might wait 
there half the winter without finding any party to go down 
with us; for Mr. Sublette and the others whom we had 
relied upon had, as Richard told us, already left Bent's Fort. 
Thus far on our journey fortune had kindly befriended us. 
We resolved therefore to take advantage of her gracious 
mood, and, trusting for a continuance of her favors, to set 
out with Henry and Deslauriers, and run the gauntlet of 
the Indians in the best way we could. 

Bent's Fort stands on the river, about seventy-five miles 
below the Pueblo. At noon of the third day we arrived 
within three or four miles of it, pitched our tent under a tree, 
hung our looking-glasses against its trunk, and having made 
our primitive toilet, rode toward the fort. We soon came 
in sight of it, for it is visible from a considerable distance, 
standing with its high clay walls in the midst of the scorching 
plains. It seemed as if a swarm of locusts had invaded the 
country. The grass for miles around was cropped close by 
the horses of General Kearny's soldiery. When we came to 
the fort, we found that not only had the horses eaten up the 
grass, but their owners had made away with the stores of 
the little trading post ; so that we had great difficulty in pro- 
curing the few articles which w^e required for our homeward 
journey. The army was gone, the life and bustle passed 
away, and the fort was a scene of dull and lazy tranquillity. 
A few invalid officers and soldiers sauntered about the area, 
which was oppressively hot; for the glaring sun was reflected 
down upon it from the high white walls around. The pro- 
prietors were absent, and we were received by Mr. Holt, 
who had been left in charge of the fort. He invited us to 
dinner, where, to our admiration, we found a table laid with 
a white cloth, with castors in the center and chairs placed 
around it. This unwonted repast concluded, we rode back 
to our crjiip. 



\ . 



The Pueblo and Bent's Fort "^^ 

Here, as we lay smoking round the fire after supper, we 
saw through the dusk three men approaching from the direc- 
tion of the fort. They rode up and seated themselves near 
us on the ground. The foremost was a tall, well-formed 
man, with a face and manner such as inspire confidence at 
once. He wore a broad hat of felt, slouching and tattered, 
and the rest of his attire consisted of a frock and leggings 
of buckskin, rubbed with the yellow clay found among the 
mountains. At the heel of one of his moccasins was buckled 
a huge iron spur, with a rowel five or six inches in diameter. 
His horse, who stood quietly looking over his head, had a 
rude Mexican saddle covered with a shaggy bearskin, and 
furnished with a pair of wooden stirrups of most preposterous 
size. The next man w^as a sprightly, active little fellow, 
about five feet and a quarter high, but very strong and com- 
pact. His face was swarthy as a Mexican's and covered with 
a close, curly black beard. An old greasy calico handker- 
chief was tied round his head, and his close buckskin dress 
was blackened and polished by grease and hard service. The 
last who came up was a large strong man, dressed in the 
coarse homespun of the frontiers, who dragged his long limbs 
over the ground as if he were too lazy for the effort. He 
had a sleepy gray eye, a retreating chin, an open mouth and 
a protruding upper lip, which gave him an air of exquisite 
indolence and helplessness. He was armed with an old 
United States yager,^ which redoubtable weapon, though he 
could never hit his mark with it, he was accustomed to cher- 
ish as the very sovereign of firearms. 

The first two men belonged to a party who had just come 
from California with a large band of horses, which they had 
disposed of at Bent's Fort. Munroe, the taller of the two, 
was from Iowa. He was an excellent fellow, open, warm- 
hearted, and intelligent. Jim Gurney, the short man, was 
a Boston sailor, who had come in a trading vessel to Cali- 

^A rifle used by light infantry. 



334 The Oregon Trail 

fornia, and taken the fancy to return across the continent. 
The journey had already made him an expert "mountain- 
man," and he presented the extraordinary phenomenon of a 
sailor who understood how to managje a horse. The third 
of our visitors, named Ellis, was a Missourian who had comie 
out with a party of Oregon emigrants, but having got as far 
as Bridge's Fort, he had fallen home-sick, or as Jim averred, 
love-sick — and Ellis was just the man to be balked in a love 
adventure. He thought proper to join the California men 
and return homeward in their company. 

They now requested that they might unite with our party, 
and make the journey to the settlements in company with us. 
We readily assented, for w^e liked the appearance of the first 
two men, and were very glad to gain so efficient a re-enforce- 
ment. We told them to meet us on the next evening at a 
spot on the river side about six miles below the fort. Having 
smoked a pipe together, our new allies left us and w^e lay 
down to sleep. ^ 



CHAPTER XXII 

TETE ROUGE^ THE VOLUNTEER 

The next morning, having directed Deslaurlers fD repair 
with his cart to the place of meeting, we came again to the 
fort to make some arrangements for the journey. After 
completing these we sat down under a sort of porch, to 
smoke with some Cheyenne Indians whom we found there. 
In a few minutes we saw an extraordinary little figure 
approach us in a military dress. He had a small, round 
countenance, garnished about the eyes with the kind of 
wrinkles commonly known as crow's feet, and surrounded 
by an abundant crop of red curls, with a little cap resting 
on the top of them. Altogether, he had the look of a man 
more conversant with mint juleps and oyster suppers than 
with the hardships of prairie service. He came up to us and 
entreated that we would take him home to the settlements, 
saying that unless he went with us he should have to stay 
all winter at the fort. We liked our petitioner's appear- 
ance so little that we excused ourselves from complying with 
his request. At this he begged us so hard to take pity on 
him, looked so disconsolate, and told so lamentable a story 
that at last we consented, though not without many mis- 
givings. 

The rugged Anglo-Saxon of our new recruit's real name 
proved utterly unmanageable on the lips of our French 
attendants, and Henry Chatillon, after various abortive 
attempts to pronounce it, one day coolly christened him Tete 
Rouge,^ in honor of his red curls. He had at different times 
been clerk of a Mississippi steamboat, and agent In a trading 
establishment at Nauvoo, besides filling various other capaci- 

»Red Head. 

335 



336 The Oregon Trail 

ties, in all of which he had seen much more of "life" than 
was good for him. In the spring, thinking that a summer's 
campaign would be an agreeable recreation, he had joined 
a company of St. Louis volunteers. 

"There were three of us," said Tete Rouge, "me and 
Bill Stevens and John Hopkins. We thought we would 
just go out with the army, and when we had conquered the 
country we would get discharged and take our pay, you 
know, and go down to Mexico. They say there is plenty of 
fun going on there. Then we could go back to New Orleans 
by way of Vera Cruz." 

But Tete Rouge, like many a stouter volunteer, had 
reckoned without his host. Fighting Mexicans was a less 
amusing occupation than he had supposed, and his pleasure 
trip was disagreeably interrupted by brain fever, which 
attacked him when about halfway to Bent's Fort. He jolted 
along through the rest of the journey in a baggage w^agon. 
When they came to the fort he was taken out and left there, 
together with the rest of the sick. Bent's Fort does not sup- 
ply the best accommodations' for an invalid. Tete Rouge's 
sick chamber was a little mud room, w^here he and a com- 
panion attacked by the same disease w^ere laid together, with 
nothing but a buffalo robe between them and the ground. 
The assistant surgeon's deputy visited them once a day and 
brought them each a huge dose of calomel, the only medi- 
cine, according to his surviving victim, which he was ac- 
quainted with. 

Tete Rouge woke one morning, and turning to his com- 
panion, saw his eyes fixed upon the beams above with the 
glassy stare of a dead man. At this the unfortunate volun- 
teer lost his senses outright. In spite of the doctor, how- 
ever, he eventually recovered ; though between the brain 
fever and the calomel, his mind, originally none of the 
strongest, was so much shaken that it had not quite recov- 
ered its balance when w^e came to the fort. In spite of the 



Tete Rouge, the VoLUNTEEk 337 

poor fellow's tragic stor}^ there was something so ludicrous 
in his appearance, and 'the whimsical contrast between his 
military dress and his most unmilitary demeanor, that we 
could not help smiling at them. We asked him if he had 
a gun. He said they had taken it from him during his 
illness, and he had not seen it since; "but perhaps," he 
observed, looking at me with a beseeching air, "you will 
lend me one of your big pistols if we should meet with any 
Indians." I next inquired if he had a horse; he declared 
he had a magnificent one, and at Shaw's request a Mexican 
led him in for inspection. He exhibited the outline of a 
good horse, but his eyes were sunk in the sockets and ever> 
one of his ribs could be counted. There were certain marks 
too about his shoulders which could be accounted for by the 
circumstance that, during Tete Rouge's illness, his compan- 
ions had seized upon the insulted charger, and harnessed 
him to a cannon along with the draft horses. To Tete 
Rouge's astonishment we recommended him by all means to 
exchange the horse, if he could, for a mule. Fortunately 
the people at the fort were so anxious to get rid of him that 
they were willing to m.ake some sacrifice to effect the object, 
and he succeeded in getting a tolerable mule in exchange for 
the broken-down steed. 

A man soon appeared at the gate, leading in the mule 
by a cord, which he placed in the hands of Tete Rouge, 
who, being somewhat afraid of his new acquisition, tried 
various flatteries and blandishments to induce her to come 
forward. The mule, knowing that she was expected to 
advance, stopped short in consequence, and stood fast as a 
rock, looking straight forward with immovable composure 
Being stimulated by a blow from behind she consented to 
move, and walked nearly to the other side of the fort before 
she stopped again. Hearing the by-standers laugh, Te^e 
Rouge plucked up spirit and tugged hard at the rope. The 
mule jerked backward, spun herself round, and m.ade a 



338 The Oregon Trail 

dash for the gate. Tete Rouge, who clung manfully to' 
the rope, went whisking through the ^ir for a few rods, when 
he let go and stood with his mouth open staring after the 
mule, who galloped away over the prairie. She w^as soon 
caught and brought back by a Mexican, who mounted a 
horse and went in pursuit of her wnth his lasso. 

Having thus displayed his capacities for prairie traveling, 
Tete proceeded to supply himself with provisions for the 
journey, and with this view he applied to a quartermaster's 
assistant who w\is in the fort. This official had a face as 
sour as vinegar, being in a state of chronic indignation 
because he had been left behind the army. He was as 
anxious as the rest to get rid of Tete Rouge. So, producing 
a rusty key, he opened a low^ door which led to a half-sub- 
terranean apartment, into which the tw^o disappeared to- 
gether. After some time they came out again, Tete Rouge 
greatly embarrassed by a multiplicity of paper parcels con- 
taining the different articles of his forty days' rations. They 
were consigned to the care of Deslauriers, who about that 
time passed by with the cart on his way to the appointed 
place of meeting with Munroe and his companions. 

We next urged Tete Rouge to provide himself if he could 
with a gun. He accordingly made earnest appeals to the 
charity of various persons in the fort, but totally without 
success, a circumstance which did not greatly disturb us, 
since in the event of a skirmish he would be much more apt 
to do mischief to himself or his friends than to the enemy. 
When all these arrangements were completed we saddled 
our horses and were preparing to leave the fort, when look- 
ing round we discovered that our new associate was in fresh 
trouble. A man was holding the mule for him in the middle 
of the fort while he tried to put the saddle on her back, 
but she kept stepping sideways and moving round and round 
in a circle until he was almost in despair. It required some 
assistance before all his difficulties could be overcome. At 



Tete Rouge, the Volunteer 339 

length he clambered into the black war saddle on which he 
was to have carried terror into the ranks of the Mexicans. 
"Get up," said Tete Rouge, "come now, go along, will 



vou." 



The mule walked deliberately forward out of the gate. 
Her recent conduct had inspired him with so much awe 
that he never dared to touch her with his whip. We trotted 
forward toward the place of meeting, but before he had gone 
far we saw that Tete Rouge's mule, who perfectly under- 
stood her rider, had stopped and was quietly grazing, in 
spite of his protestations, at some distance behind. So get- 
ting behind him, we drove him and the contumacious mule 
before us, until we could see through the twilight the gleam- 
ing of a distant fire. Munroe, Jim, and Ellis were lying 
around it; their saddles, packs, and weapons were scattered 
about and their horses picketed near them. Deslauriers was 
there too with our little cart. Another fire was soon blazing 
high. We invited our new^ allies to take a cup of coffee 
with us. When both the others had gone over to their side 
of the camp, Jim^ Gurney still stood by the blaze, puffing 
hard at his little black pipe, as short and weather-beaten 
as himself. 

"Well!" he said, "here are eight of us; we'll call it six 
— for them two boobies, Ellis over yonder, and that new man 
of yours, won't count for anything. We'll get through well 
enough, never fear for that, unless the Comanches happen 
to get foul of us." 



CHAPTER XXIII 

INDIAN ALARMS 

We began our journey for the frontier settlements on 
the twenty-seventh of August, and certainly a more raga- 
muffin cavalcade never was seen on the banks of the upper 
Arkansas. Of the large and fine horses with which we had 
left the frontier in the spring, not one remained; we had 
supplied their place w^ith the rough breed of the prairie, as 
hardy as mules and almost as ugly ; we had also with us a 
number of the latter detestable animals. In spite of their 
strength and hardihood, several of the band were already 
worn down by hard service and hard fare, and as none of 
them were shod, they were fast becoming foot-sore. Every 
horse and mule had a cord of twisted bull-hide coiled around 
his neck, which by no means added to the beauty of his 
appearance. Our saddles and all our equipments were by 
this time lamentably worn and battered, and our weapons 
had become dull and rusty. The dress of the riders fully 
corresponded with the dilapidated furniture of our horses, 
and of the whole party none made a more disreputable 
appearance than my friend and I. Shaw had for an upper 
garment an old red flannel shirt, flying open in front and 
belted around him like a frock; while I, in absence of other 
clothing, was attired in a time-worn suit of leather. 

Thus, happy and careless as so many beggars, we crept 
slowly from day to day along the monotonous banks of the 
Arkansas. Tete Rouge gave constant trouble, for he could 
never catch his mule, saddle her, or indeed do anything else 
without assistance. Every day he had some new ailment, 
real or imaginary, to complain of. At one moment he would 
be woebegone and disconsolate, and the next he would be 

340 



Indian Alarms 341 

visited with a violent flow of spirits, to which he could only 
give vent by incessant laughing, whistling, and telling stories. 
When other resources failed, we used to amuse ourselves 
by tormenting him ; a fair compensation for the trouble he 
cost us. Tete Rouge rather enjoyed being laughed at, for 
he was an odd compound of weakness, eccentricity, and good- 
nature. He made a figure worthy of a painter as he paced 
along before us, perched on the back of his mule, and envel- 
oped in a huge buffalo-robe coat which some charitable per- 
son had given him at the fort. This extraordinary garment, 
which w^ould have contained two men of his size, he chose, 
for some reason best known to himself, to wear inside out, 
and he never took it ofi even in the hottest weather. It was 
fluttering all over w^ith seams and tatters, and the hide was 
so old and rotten that it broke out every day in a new place. 
Just at the top of it a large pile of red curls was visible, 
with his little cap set jauntily upon one side to give him a 
military air. His seat in the saddle was no less remarkable 
than his person and equipment. He pressed one leg close 
against his mule's side, and thrust the other out at an angle 
of forty-five degrees. His pantaloons were decorated with 
a military red stripe, of which he was extremely vain ; but 
being much too short, the whole length of his boots was 
usually visible below them. His blanket, loosely rolled up 
into a large bundle, dangled at the back of his saddle, where 
he carried it tied with a string. Four or five times a day 
it would fall to the ground. • Every few minutes he would 
drop his pipe, his knife, his flint and steel, or a piece of 
tobacco, and have to scramble down to pick them up. In 
doing this he would contrive to get in everybody's way; and 
as the most of the party were by no means remarkable for 
a fastidious choice of language, a storm of anathemas would 
be showered upon him, half in earnest and half in jest, until 
Tete Rouge would declare that there was no comfort in life 
and that he never saw such fellows before. 



342 The Oregon Trail 

Only a day or two after leaving Bent's Fort Henry Cha- 
tlllon rode forward to hunt, and took Ellis along with him. 
After they had been some time absent w^e saw them coming ; 
down the hill, driving three dragoon-horses, which had 
escaped from their owners on the march, or perhaps had 
given out and been abandoned. One of them was in toler- 
able condition, but the others were much emaciated and 
severely bitten by the w^olves. Reduced as they were we car- 
ried tw^o of them to the settlements, and Henry exchanged 
the third with the Arapahoes for an excellent mule. 

On the day after, when we had stopped to rest at noon, 
a long train of Santa Fe wagons came up and trailed slowly 
past us in their picturesque procession. They belonged to a 
trader named Magoffin, whose brother, with a number of 
other men, came over and sat down around us on* the grass. 
The news they brought w^as not of the most pleasing com- 
plexion. According to their accounts, the trail below was 
in a very dangerous state. They had repeatedly detected 
Indians prowling at night around their camps ; and the large 
party which had left Bent's Fort a few weeks previous to 
our own departure had been attacked, and a man named 
Swan, from Massachusetts, had been killed. His companions 
had buried the body, but when Magoffin found his grave, 
which was near a place called the Caches,^ the Indians had 
dug up and scalped him, and the w^olves had shockingly 
mangled his remains. As an ofifset to this intelligence, they 
gave us the w^elcome information that the buffalo were 
numerous at a few da^'s' journey below. 

On the next afternoon, as we moved along the bank of 
the river, we saw the white tops of wagons on the horizon. 
It was som.e hours before w^e met them, when they proved to 
be a train of clumsy ox-wagons, quite diilerent from the 

iln the spring of 1823 two Santa Fe traders, Beard and Chambers, who had 
been compelled to spend th? winter on the Arkansas, "cached," or buried, their 
g^ods in pits dug in the bank of the river, while they proceeded to Taos, New 
Mexico, for pack animals. The pits were about f.ve mil?s west of the present 
Dodge City. Kansas. The region was knovvU as the "Caches" until recei.t times. 



Indian Alarms 343 

rakish vehicles of the Santa Fe traders, and loaded with 
government stores lor the troops. They all stopped and the 
drivers gathered around us in a crowd. I thought that the 
whole frontier might have been ransacked in vain to furnish 
men worse fitted to meet the dangers of the prairie. Many 
of them were mere boys, fresh from the plow and devoid of 
knowledge and experience. In respect to the state of the 
trail, they confirmed all that the Santa Fe men had told us. 
In passing between the Pawnee Fork and the Caches, their 
sentinels had fired every night at real or imaginary Indians. 
They said also that Ew^ing, a young Kentuckian in the, 
party that had gone down before us, had shot an Indian who 
was prowling at evening about the camp. Som.e of them 
advised us to turn back, and others to hasten forward as fast 
as we could ; but they all seemed in such a state of feverish 
anxiety, and so little capable of cool judgment, that we 
attached slight weight to what they said. They next gave 
us a more definite piece of intelligence : a large village of ' 
Arapahoes was encamped on the river below. They repre- 
sented them to be quite friendly; but some distinction was 
to be made between a party of thirty men, traveling with 
oxen, which are of no value in an Indian's eyes, and a mere 
handful like ourselves, with a tempting band of mules and 
horses. This story of the Arapahoes therefore caused us 
some anxiety. 

Just after leaving the government wagons, as Shaw and 
I were riding along a narrow passage betw^een the river bank 
and a rough hill that pressed close upon it, we heard Tete 
Rouge's voice behind us. "Hallo!" he called out; "I say, 
stop the cart just for a minute, will you?" 

''What's the matter, Tete?" asked Shaw, as he came 
riding up to us with a grin of exultation. He had a bottle 
of molasses in one hand, and a large bundle of hides on the 
saddle before him, containing, as he triumphantly informed 
us, sugar, biscuits, coffee, and rice. These supplies he had 



^44 The Oregon Trail 

obtained bj'' a stratagem on which he greatly plumed him- 
self, and he was extremely vexed and astonished that we 
did not fall in with his views of the matter. He had told 
Coates, the master-wagoner, that the commissary at the fort 
had given him an order for sick-rations, directed to the master 
of any government train which he might meet upon the 
road. This order he had unfortunately lost, but he hoped 
that the rations would not be refused on that account, as 
he was suffering from coarse fare and needed them very 
much. As soon as he came to camp that night, Tete Rouge 
repaired to the box at the back of the cart, where Deslauriers 
used to keep his culinary apparatus, took possession of a 
saucepan, and after building a little fire of his own, set to 
work preparing a meal out of his ill-gotten booty. This 
done, he seized on a tin plate and spoon and sat down under 
the cart to regale himself. His preliminary repast did not 
at all prejudice his subsequent exertions at supper; where, 
in spite of his miniature dimensions, he made a better figure 
than any of us. Indeed, about this time his appetite grew 
quite voracious. He began to thrive wonderfully. His 
small body visibly expanded, and his cheeks, which when we 
first took him were rather yellow and cadaverous, now 
dilated in a wonderful manner, and became ruddy in pro- 
portion. Tete Rouge, in short, began to appear like another 
man. 

Early in the afternoon of the next day, looking along 
the edge of the horizon in front, we saw that at one point it 
was faintly marked w^ith pale indentations, like the teeth 
of a saw. The lodges of the Arapahoes, rising between us 
and the sky, caused this singular appearance. It wanted 
still two or three hours of sunset when we came opposite 
their camp. There were full two hundred lodges standing 
in the midst of a grassy meadow at some distance beyond 
the river, while for a mile around and on either bank of the 
Arkansas were scattered some fifteen hundred horses and 



Indian Alarms 345 

mules, grazing together in bands or wandering singly about 
the prairie. The whole were visible at once, for the vast 
expanse was unbroken by hills, and there was not a tree 
or a bush to intercept the view. 

Here and there walked an Indian engaged in watching 
the horses. No sooner did we see them than Tete Rouge 
begged Deslauriers to stop the cart and hand him his little 
military jacket, which was stowed away there. In this he 
instantly invested himself, having for once laid the old buffalo 
coat aside, assumed a most martial posture in the saddle, set 
his cap over his left eye with an air of defiance, and earnestly 
entreated that somebody would lend him a gun or pistol only 
for half an hour. Being called upon to explain these remark' 
able proceedings, Tete Rouge observed that he knew from 
experience what effect the presence of a military man in his 
uniform always had upon the mind of an Indian, and he 
thought the Arapahoes ought to know that there was a 
soldier in the party. 

Meeting Arapahoes here on the Arkansas was a very dif- 
ferent thing from meeting the same Indians among their native 
mountains. There was another circumstance in our favor. 
General Kearny had seen them a few weeks before as he came 
up the river with his army, and renewing his threats of the 
previous year, he told them that if they ever again touched the 
hair of a w^hite man's head he would exterminate their nation. 
This placed them for the time in an admirable frame of mind, 
and the effect of his menaces had not yet disappeared. I was 
anxious to see the village and its inhabitants. We thought it 
also our best policy to visit them openly, as if unsuspicious of 
any hostile design; and Shaw and I, with Henry Chatillon, 
prepared to cross the river. The rest of the party mean- 
while moved forward as fast as they could, in order to get 
as far as possible from our suspicious neighbors before night 
came on. 

The Arkansas at this point, and for several hundred 



346 The Oregon Trail 

miles below, is nothing but a broad sand-bed, over which 
a few scanty threads of water are swiftly gliding, now and 
then expanding into wide shallows. At several places, during 
the autumn, the water sinks into the sand and disappears 
altogether. At this season, werie it not for the numerous 
quicksands, the river might be forded almost anywhere 
without difficulty, though its channel is often a quarter of a" 
mile wide. Our horses jum^ped down the bank, and wading 
through the water or galloping freely over the hard sand- 
beds, soon reached the other side. Here, as we were pushing 
through the tall grass, we saw several Indians not far off; 
one of them waited until we came up, and stood for some 
moments in perfect silence before us, looking at us askance 
with his little snakelike eyes. Henry explained by signs 
w^hat we wanted, and the Indian, gathering his buffalo robe 
about his shoulders, led the way toward the village without 
speaking a word. 

The language of the Arapahoes is so difficult, and its 
pronunciation so harsh and guttural, that no white man, it 
is said, has ever been able to master it. Even Maxwell the 
trader, who has been most among them, is compelled to 
resort to the curious sign language common to most of the 
prairie tribes. With this Henry Chatillon was perfectly 
acquainted. 

Approaching the village, \vt found the ground all around 
it strewn with great piles of waste buffalo meat in incredible 
quantities. The lodges were pitched in a very wide circle. 
They resembled those of the Dakota in everything but clean- 
liness and neatness. Passing between two of them, we 
entered the great circular area of the camp, and instantly 
hundreds of Indians, men, women, and children, came flock- 
ing out of their habitations to look at us ; at the same time 
the dogs all around the village set up a fearful baying. Our 
Indian guide walked toward the lodge of the chief. Here 
we dismounted ; and loosening the trail-ropes from our horses' 



Indian Alarms 347 

necks, held them secure!}', and sat down before the entrance 
with our rifles laid across our laps. The chief came out and 
shook us by the hand. He was a mean-looking fellow, very 
tall, thin-visaged, and sinewy, like the rest of the nation, and 
with scarcely a vestige of clothing. We had not been seated 
half a minute before a multitude of Indians came crowding 
around us from every part of the village, and we were shut 
in by a dense wall of savage faces. Some of the Indians 
crouched around us on the ground ; others again sat behind 
them ; others, stooping, looked over their heads ; while many 
more stood crowded behind, stretching themselves upw^ard 
and peering over each other's shoulders to get a view of us. 
I looked in vain among this multitude of faces to discover 
one manly or generous expression ; all were wolfish, sinister, 
and malignant, and their complexions, as well as their feat- 
ures, unlike those of the Dakota, were exceedingly bad. The 
chief, w^ho sat close to the entrance, called to a squaw within 
the lodge, who soon came out and placed a wooden bowl of 
meat before us. To our surprise, however, no pipe was 
offered. Having tasted of the meat as a matter of form, I 
began to open a bundle of presents — tobacco, knives, vermil- 
ion, and other articles which I had brought with me. At this 
there was a grin on every countenance in the rapacious crowd ; 
their eyes began to glitter, and long thin arms were eagerly 
stretched toward us on all sides to receive the gifts. 

The Arapahoes set great value upon their shields, which 
they transmit carefully from father to son. I wished to ge; 
one of them; and displaying a large piece of scarlet cloth, 
together with some tobacco and a knife, I offered them to 
any one who would bring me what I wanted. After some 
delay a tolerable shield w^as produced. They were very 
anxious to know what we meant to do with it, and Henry 
told them that we were going to fight their enemies, the 
Pawnees. This instantly produced a visible impression in 
our favor, which was increased by the distribution of the 



348 The Oregon Trail 

presents. Among these was a large paper of awls, a gift 
appropriate to the women ;^ and as we were anxious to see the 
beauties of the Arapahoe village, Henry requested that they 
might be called to receive them. A warrior gave a shout as 
if he were calling a pack of dogs together. The squaws, 
young and old, hags of eighty and girls of sixteen, came run- 
ning with screams and laughter out of the lodges; and as the 
m,en gave wa^ for them they gathered round us and stretched 
out their arms, grinning with delight, their native ugliness 
considerably enhanced by the excitement of the moment. 

Mounting our horses, which during the whole interview 
we had held close to us, we prepared to leave the Arapahoes. 
The crowd fell back on each side and stood looking on. 
When we were half across the camp an idea occurred to us. 
The Pawnees were probably in the neighborhood of the 
Caches; we might tell the Arapahoes of this and instigate 
them to send down a war party and cut them oflf, while we 
ourselves could remain behind for a while and hunt the buf- 
falo. At first thought this plan of setting our enemies to 
destroy one another seemed to us a masterpiece of policy; 
but we immediately recollected that should we meet the 
Arapahoe warriors on the river below, they might prove 
quite as dangerous as the Pawnees themselves. So rejecting 
our plan as soon as it presented itself, we passed out of the 
village on the farther side. We urged our horses rapidly 
through the tall grass which rose to their necks. Several 
Indians wTre walking through it at a distance, their heads 
just visible above its waving surface. It bore a kind of seed 
as sweet and nutritious as oats;, and our hungry horses, in 
spite of whip and rein, could not resist the t-emptation of 
snatching at this unwonted luxury as we passed along. When 
about a mile from the village I turned and looked back over 
the undulating ocean of grass. The sun was just set; the 
western sky was all in a glow, and sharply defined against it, 

*Used by the Indians in place of needles. 



Indian Alarms 349 

on the extreme verge of the plain, stood the numerous lodges 
of the Arapahoe camp. 

Reaching the bank of the river, we followed it for some 
distance farther, until we discerned through the twilight 
the white covering of our little cart on the opposite bank. 
When we reached it we found a considerable number of 
Indians there before us. Four or five of them were seated 
in a row upon the ground, looking like so many half-starved 
vultures. Tete Rouge, in his uniform, was holding a close 
colloquy with another by the side of the cart. His gesticu- 
lations, his attempts at sign-making, and the contortions of 
his countenance, were most ludicrous ; and finding all these 
of no avail, he tried to make the Indian understand him by 
repeating English words very loudly and distinctly again and 
again. The Indian sat with his eye fixed steadily upon him, 
and in spite of the rigid immobility of his features, it wab 
clear at a glance that he perfectly understood his military 
companion's character and thoroughly despised him. The 
exhibition was more amusing than politic, and Tete Rouge 
was directed to finish what he had to say as soon as possible. 
Thus rebuked, he crept under the cart and sat down there ; 
Henry Chatillon stooped to look at him in his retirement, 
and remarked in his quiet manner that an Indian would kill 
ten such men and laugh all the time. 

One by one our visitors rose and stalked away. As the 
darkness thickened we were saluted by dismal sounds. The 
wolves are incredibly numerous in this part of the country, 
and the of¥al around the Arapahoe camp had drawn such 
multitudes of them together that several hundreds were 
howling in concert in our immediate neighborhood. There 
was an island in the river, or rathejr an oasis in the midst of 
the sands, at about the distance of a gunshot, and here they 
seemed gathered in the greatest numbers. A horrible dis- 
cord of low mournful w^ailings, mingled with ferocious 
howls, arose from it incessantly for several hours after sunfct 



350 The Oregon Trail 

We could distinctly see the wolves running about the prairie 
within a few rods of our fire, or bounding over the sand- 
beds of the river and splashing through the water. There 
was not the slightest danger to be feared from them, for they 
are the greatest cowards on the prairie. 

In respect to the human wolves in our neighborhood, we 
felt much less at our ease. We seldom erected our tent 
*'xcept in bad weather, and that night each man spread his 
bufialo robe upon the ground with his loaded rifle laid at his 
side or clasped in his arms. Our horses were picketed so 
close around us that one of them repeatedly stepped over me 
as I lay. We were not in the habit of placing a guard, but 
every man that night was anxious and watchful ; there was 
little sound sleeping in camp, and some one of the party was 
on his feet during the greater part of the time. For myself, 
I lay alternately waking and dozing until midnight. Tete 
Rouge was reposing close to the river bank, and about this 
time, when half asleep and half awake, I w^as conscious that 
he shifted his position and crept on all-fours under the cart. 
Soon after I fell into a sound sleep from wdiich I was aroused 
by a hand shaking me by the shoulder. Looking up, I saw 
Tete Rouge stooping over me with his face quite pale and 
his eyes dilated to their utmost expansion. 

"What's the matter?" said I. 

Tete Rouge declared that as he lay on the river bank, 
something caught his e3"e which excited his suspicions. So 
creeping under the cart for safety's sake he sat there and 
watched, when he saw tw^o Indians, wrapped in white robes, 
creep up the bank, seize upon two horses and lead them off. 
He looked so frightened, and told his story in such a discon- 
nected manner, that I did not believe him, and was unwill- 
ing to alarm the party. Still it might be true, and in that 
case the matter required instant attention. There would be 
no time for examination, and so directing Tete Rouge to 
show m.e which way the Indians had gone, I took my rifle, in 



Indian Alarms 351 

obedience to a thoughtless impulse, and left the camp. I 
followed the river bank for two or three hundred yards, 
listening and looking anxiously on every side. In the dark 
prairie on the right I could discern nothing to excite alarm ; 
and in the dusky bed of the river, a wolf w^as bounding along 
in a manner which no Indian could imitate. I returned to 
the camp, and when within sight of it, saw that the whole 
party w^as aroused. Shaw called out to me that he had 
counted the horses, and that every one of them was in his 
place. Tete Rouge, being examined as to what he had seen, 
only repeated his former story with many asseverations, and 
insisted that two horses were certainly carried off. At this 
Jim Gurney declared that he was crazy; Tete Rouge indig- 
nantly denied the charge, on which Jim appealed to us. As 
we declined to give our judgment on so delicate a matter, 
the dispute grew hot between Tete Rouge and his accuser, 
until he was directed to go to bed and not alarm the camp 
again if he saw the whole Arapahoe village coming,. 



\ 



CHAPTER XXIV 

THE CHASE 

The country before us was now thronged with buffalo, 
and a sketch of the manner of hunting them will not be out 
of place. There are two methods commonly practiced, ''run- 
ning" and "approaching." The chase on horseback, which 
goes by the name of "running," is the more violent and dash- 
ing mode of the two. Indeed, of all American wild sports, 
this is the wildest. Once among the buffalo, the hunter, 
unless long use has made him familiar with the situation, 
dashes forward in utter recklessness and self-abandonment. 
He thinks of nothing, cares for nothing but the game; his 
mind is stimulated to the highest pitch, yet intensely concen- 
trated on one object. In the midst of the flying herd, where 
the uproar and the dust are thickest, it never wavers for a 
moment; he drops the rein and abandons his horse to his 
furious career ; he levels his gun, the report sounds faint 
amid the thunder of the buffalo ; and when his wounded 
enemy leaps in vain fury upon him, his heart thrills with a • 
feeling like the fierce delight of the battlefield. A practiced 
and skillful hunter, well mounted, will sometimes kill five or 
six cows in a single chase, loading his gun again and again 
us his horse rushes through the tumult. An exploit like this 
is quite beyond the capacities of a novice. In attacking a 
small band of buffalo, or in separating a single animal from 
the herd and assailing it apart from the rest, there is less 
excitement and less danger. With a bold and well trained 
horse the hunter may ride so close to the buffalo that as they 
gallop side by side he may reach over and touch him with his 
hand ; nor is there much danger in this as long as the buf- 
falo's strength and breath continue unabated; but when he 

352 



The Chase 353 

becomes tired and can no longer run at ease, when his tongue 
lolls out and foam flies from his jaws, then the hunter had 
better keep at a more respectful distance ; the distressed brute 
may turn upon him at any instant, and especially at the 
moment when he fires his gun. The wounded buffalo springs 
at his enemy; the horse leaps violently aside; and then the 
hunter has need of a tenacious seat in the saddle, for if he 
is thrown to the ground there is no hope for him. When he 
sees his attack defeated the buffalo resumes his flight, but if 
the shot be well directed he soon stops; for a few moments- 
he stands still, then totters and falls heavily upon the prairie, 

The chief difficulty in running buffalo, as it seems to me, 
is that of loading the gun or pistol at full gallop. Many 
hunters for convenience' sake carry three or four bullets in 
the mouth ; the powder is poured down the muzzle of the 
piece, the bullet dropped in after it, the stock struck hard 
upon the pommel of the saddle, and the work is done. The 
danger of this method is obvious. Should the blow on the 
pommel fail to send the bullet home, or should the latter, irj 
the act of aiming, start from its place and roll toward the 
muzzle, the gun would probably burst in discharging. Many 
a shattered hand and worse casualties besides have been the 
result of such an accident. To obviate it, some hunters make 
use of a ramrod, usually hung by a string from the neck, but 
this materially increases the difficulty of loading. The bows 
and arrows which the Indians use in running buffalo have 
many advantages over firearms, and even white men occasion- 
ally employ them. 

The danger of the chase arises not so much from the 
onset of the wounded animal as from the nature of the 
ground which the hunter must ride over. The prairie does 
not always present a smooth, level, and uniform surface; 
very often it is broken with hills and hollows intersected by 
ravines, and in the remoter parts studded by the stiff wild- 
sage bushes. The most formidable obstructions, however, 



^54 The Oregon Trail 

are the burrows of wild animals — wolves, badgers, and par- 
ticularly prairie dogs — with whose holes the ground tor a 
very great extent is frequently honeycombed. In the blind- 
ness of the chase the hunter rushes over it unconscious of 
danger ; his horse, "at full career, thrusts his leg deep into one 
of the burrows; the bone snaps, the rider is hurled forward 
to the ground and probably killed. Yet accidents in buffalo 
running happen less frequently than one would suppose ; in 
the recklessness of the chase, the hunter enjoys all the impu- 
nity of a drunken man, and may ride in safety over the gul- 
lies and declivities where, should he attempt to pass In his 
sober senses, he would infallibly break his neck. 

The method of "approaching," being practiced on foot, 
has many advantages over that of "running;" in the former, 
one neither breaks down his horse nor endangers his own 
life; instead of yielding to excitement he must be cool, col- 
lected, and watchful; he must understand the buffalo, observe 
the features of the country and the course of the wind, and 
be well skilled, moreover, in using the rifle. The buffalo 
are strange animals; sometimes they are so stupid and infatu- 
ated that a man may walk up to them in full sight on the 
open prairie, and even shoot several of their number before 
the rest will think it necessary to retreat. Again at another 
moment they will be so shy and wary, that in order to 
approach them the utmost skill, experience, and judgment 
are necessary. Kit Carson,^ I believe, stands pre-eminent In 
running buffalo ; in approaching, no man living can bear 
away the palm from Henry Chatilton. 

To resume the story: After Tete Rouge had alarmed 
the camp, no further disturbance occurred during the night. 
The Arapahoes did not attempt mischief, or if they did the 
wakefulness of the party deterred them from effecting their 
purpose. The next day was one of activity and excitement, 

^Christopher ("Kit") Carson, a famous American trapper and guide, b. 
1809. d. 1868. 



The Chase 355 

for about ten o'clock the men in advance shouted the glad- 
dening cry of "Buffalo, Buffalo!" and in the hollow of the 
prairie just below us a band of bulls were grazing. The 
temptation was irresistible, and Shaw and I rode down upon 
them. We were badly mounted on our traveling horses, but 
by hard lashing we overtook them, and Shaw, running along- 
side of a bull, shot into him both balls of his double-barreled 
gun. Looking round as I galloped past, I saw the bull in his 
mortal fury rushing again and again upon his antagonist, 
whose horse constantly leaped aside and avoided the onset. 
My chase was more protracted, but at length I ran close to 
the bull and killed him with my pistols. Cutting of^ the tails 
of our victims by way of trophy, we rejoined the party in 
about a quarter of an hour after -we left it. Again and again 
that morning rang out the same welcome cry of "Buffalo, 
buffalo!" Every few moments, in the broad meadows along 
the river, we would see bands of bulls, who, raising their 
shaggy heads, would gaze in stupid amazement at the 
approaching horsemen, and then breaking into a clumsy gal- 
lop would file off in a long line across the trail in front, 
toward the rising prairie on the left. At noon the whole 
plain before us was alive with thousands of buffalo — bulls, 
cows and calves — all moving rapidly as we drew near; and 
far-off beyond the river the sw^elling prairie w^as darkened 
with them to the very horizon. The party was in gayer spirits 
than ever. We stopped for a nooning near a grove of trees 
by the river-side. 

"Tongues and hump ribs to-morrow," said Shaw, look- 
ing with contempt at the venison steaks which Deslauriers 
placed before us. Our meal finished, we lay down under 
a temporary awning to sleep. A shout from Henry Cha- 
tillon aroused us, and we saw him standing on the cart- 
wheel stretching his tall figure to its full height while he 
looked toward the prairie beyond the river. Follow- 
ing the direction of his eyes we could clearly distinguish a 



35b The Oregon Trail 

large dark object, like the black shadow of a cloud, passing 
rapidly over swell after swell of the distant plain ; behind 
it followed another of similar appearance, though smaller. 
Its motion was more rapid, and it drew closer and closer to 
the first. It was the hunters of the Arapahoe camp pursuing 
a band of buffalo. Shaw and I hastily sought and saddled 
our best horses, and went plunging through sand and water 
to the farther bank. We were too late. The hunters had 
already mingled with the herd, and the work of slaughter 
was nearly over. When we reached the ground we found it 
strewn far and near with numberless black carcasses, while 
the remnants of the herd, scattered in all directions, were 
flying away in terror, and the Indians still rushing in pursuit. 
Many of the hunters, however, remained upon the spot, and 
among the rest was our yesterday's acquaintance, the chief of 
the village. He had alighted by the side of a cow, into 
which he had shot five or six arrows, and his squaw, who 
liad followed him on horseback to the hunt, was giving 
him a draught of water out of a canteen purchased or plun- 
dered from some volunteer soldier. Recrossing the river we 
overtook the party, who were already on their way. 

We had scarcely gone a mile when an imposing spectacle 
presented itself. From the river bank on the right, away 
over the swelling prairie on the left, and in front as far as 
we could see, extended one vast host of buffalo. The out- 
skirts of the herd v^-ere within a quarter of a mile. In many 
parts they were crowded so densely together that in the 
distance their rounded backs presented a surface of uniform 
blackness ; but elsewhere they were more scattered, and from 
amid the multitudes rose little columns of dust where the 
buffalo were rolling on the ground. Here and there a great 
confusion was perceptible, where a battle was going forward 
among the bulls. We could distinctly see them rushing 
against each other, and hear the clattering of their horns and 
their hoarse bellowing. Shaw was riding at some distance in 



The Chase 357 

advance with Henry Chatillon ; I saw him stop and draw 
the leather covering from his gun. Indeed, with such a sight 
before us, but one thing could be thought of. That morn* 
ing I had used pistols in the chase. I had now a mind to 
try the virtue of a gun. Deslauriers had one, and I rode up 
to the side of the cart ; there he sat under the white cover- 
ing, biting his pipe between his teeth and grinning with 
excitement. 

"Lend me your gun, Deslauriers," said I. '' 

"Out, monsieur, oui'' said Deslauriers, tugging with 
might and main to stop the mule, which seemed obstinately 
bent on going forward. Then everything but his moccasins 
disappeared as he crawled into the cart and pulled at the gun 
to extricate it. 

"Is it loaded?" I asked. 

"Ou'i, h'len charge'^ you'll kill, mon bourgeois; yes, 3'ou'll 
kill — c est un hon fusil. "^ 

I handed him my rifle and rode forward to Shaw. 

"Are you ready?" he asked. 

"Come on," said I. 

"Keep down that hollow," said Henry, "and then they 
won't see you till you get close to them." 

The hollow was a kind of ravine very wide and shallow ; 
it ran obliquely toward the buffalo, and we rode at a canter 
along the bottom until it became too shallow, when we bent 
close to our horses' necks, and then finding that it could 
no longer conceal us, came out of it and rode directly toward 
the herd. It was within gunshot ; before its outskirts numer- 
ous grizzly old bulls were scattered, holding guard over 
their females. They glared at us in anger and astonishment, 
walked toward us a few yards, and then turning slowly round 
retreated at a trot which afterward broke into a clumsy 
gallop. In an instant the main body caught the alarm. The 

'Wen loaaed. 
■^It's a good gun 



358 The Oregon Trail 

buffalo began to crowd away from the point toward which 
we were approaching, and a gap w^as opened in the side of 
the herd. We entered it, still restraining our excited horses. 
Every instant the tumult was thickening. The buffalo, press- 
ing together in large bodies,^ crowded away from us on every 
hand. In front and on either side we could see dark columns 
and masses, half hidden by clouds of dust, rushing along in 
terror and confusion, and hear the tramp and clattering of 
ten thousand hoofs. That countless multitude of powerful 
brutes, ignorant of their own strength, were flying in a panic, 
from the approach of two feeble horsemen. To remain quiet 
longer was impossible. 

"Take that band on the left," said Shaw; 'Til take these 
in front." 

He sprang off, and I saw no more of him. A heavy 
Indian whip was fastened by a band to my wrist; I swung 
it into the air and lashed my horse's flank with all the 
strength of my arm. Away she darted, stretching close to 
the ground. I could see nothing but a cloud of dust before 
me, but I knew that it concealed a band of many hundreds 
of buffalo. In a moment I was in the midst of the cloud, 
half suffocated by the dust and stunned by the trampling of 
the flying herd ; but I was drunk with the chase and cared 
for nothing but the buffalo. Very soon a long dark mass 
became visible, looming through the dust; then I could dis- 
tinguish each bulky carcass, the hoofs flying out beneath, the 
short tails held rigidly erect. In a moment I was so close that 
I could have touched them with my gun. Suddenly, to my 
vitter amazement, the hoofs were jerked upward, the tails 
flourished in the air, and amid a cloud of dust the buffalo 
seemed to sink into the earth before me. One vivid impres- 
sion of that instant remains upon my mind. I remember 
looking dow^n upon the backs of several buffalo dimly visible 
through the dust. We had run unawares upon a ravine. At 
that moment I was not the most accurate judge of depth and 



The Chase 359 

width, but when I passed it on my return, I found it about 
twelve feet deep and not quite twice as wide at the bottom. 
It w^as impossible to stop ; I 'would have done so gladly if 1 
could ; so, half sliding, half plunging, down went the little 
mare. I believe she came down on her knees in the loose 
sand at the bottom; I was pitched forward violently against 
her neck and nearly thrown over her head among the buffalo, 
who amid dust and confusion came tumbling in all around. 
The mare w^as on her feet in an instant and scrambling like 
a cat up the opposite side. I thought for a moment that she 
w^ould have fallen back and crushed me, but with a violent 
effort she clambered out and gained the hard prairie above. 
Glancing back I saw the huge head of a bull clinging as it 
were by the forefeet at the edge of the dusty gulf. At length 
I w^as fairly among the buffalo. They were less densely 
crowded than before, and I could see nothing but bulls, who 
always run at the rear of the herd. As I passed amid them 
they would lower their heads, and turnmg as they ran, 
attempt to gore my horse ; but as they were already at full 
speed there was no force in their onset, and as Pauline ran 
faster than they, they were always thrown behind her in the 
effort. I soon began to distinguish cows amid the throng. 
One just in front of me seemed to my liking, and I pushed 
close to her side. Dropping the reins I fired, holding the 
muzzle of the gun within a foot of her shoulder. Quick as 
lightning she sprang at Pauline ; the little mare dodged the 
attack, and I lost sight of the wounded animal amid the 
tumultuous crowed. Immediately after I selected another, 
and urging forw^ard Pauline, shot into her both pistols in suc- 
cession. For a while I kept her in view, but in attempting 
to load my gun, lost sight of her also in the confusion. 
Believing her to he^ mortally wounded and unable to keep 
up with the herd, I checked my horse. The crowd rushed 
onward. The dust and tumult passed away, and on the 
prairie, far behind the rest, I saw^ a solitary buffalo galloping 



360 The Oregon Trail 

heavily. In a moment I and my victim were running side by 
side. My firearms were all empty, and I had in my pouch 
nothing but rifle bullets, too large for the pistols and too 
small for the gun, I loaded the latter, however, but as often 
as I leveled it to fire, the little bullets would roll out of the 
muzzle and the gun returned only a faint report like a squib, 
as the powder harmlessly exploded. I galloped in front of 
the buffalo and attempted to turn her back; but her eyes 
glared, her mane bristled, and lowering her head, she rushed 
at me with astonishing fierceness and activity. Again and 
again I rode before her, and again and again she repeated 
her furious charge. But little Pauline w^as in her element. 
Shfe dodged her enemy at every rush, until ,at length the buf- 
falo stood still, exhausted with her own efforts; she panted, 
and her tongue hung lolling from her jaws. 

Riding to a little distance I alighted, thinking to gather 
a handful of dry grass to serve the purpose of wadding, and 
load the gun at my leisure. No sooner were my feet on the 
ground than the buffalo came bounding in such a rage toward 
me that I jumped back again into the saddle with all pos- 
sible dispatch. After w^aiting a few minutes more, I made 
an attempt to ride up and stab her w^ith my knife; but the 
experiment proved such as no wise man would repeat. At 
length, bethinking me of the fringes at the seams of my 
buckskin pantaloons, I jerked off a few of them, and reload- 
ing the gun, forced them down the barrel to keep the bullet 
in its place; then approaching, I shot the w^ounded buffalo 
through the heart. Sinking to her knees, she rolled over life- 
less on the prairie. To my astonishment, I found that 
instead of a fat cow I had been slaughtering a stout yearling 
bull. No longer wondering at the fierceness he had shown, 
I opened his throat, and, cutting out his tongue, tied it at 
the back of my saddle. My mistake was one which a more 
experienced eye than mine might easily make in the dust 
and confusion of such a chase. 



The Chase 361 

Then for the first time I had leisure to look at the scene 
around me. The prairie in front was darkened with the 
retreating multitude, and on the other hand the buffalo 
came filing up in endless unbroken columns from the low 
plains upon the river. The Arkansas was three or four 
miles distant. I turned and moved slowly toward it. A 
long time passed before, far down in the distance, I dis- 
tinguished the white covering of the cart and the little black 
specks of horsemen before and behind it. Drawing near, I 
recognized Shaw's elegant tunic, the red flannel shirt, con- 
spicuous far off. I overtook the party, and asked him whar 
success he had met with. He had assailed a fat cow, shot her 
with two bullets, and mortally wounded her. But neither 
of us were prepared for the chase that afternoon, and Shaw, 
like myself, had no spare bullets in his pouch ; so he aban- 
doned the disabled animal to Henry Chatillon, who followed, 
dispatched her with his rifle, and loaded his horse with her 
meat. 

We encamped close to the river. The night wa^; dark, 
and as we lay down we could hear mingled with the bowl- 
ings of wolves the hoarse bellowing of the buffalo, like the 
ocean beating upon a distant coast. 



CHAPTER XXV 

THE BUFFALO CAMP 

No one in the camp was more active than Jim Gurney, 
and no one half so lazy as Ellis. Between these two there 
was a great antipathy. Ellis never stirred in the morning 
until he was compelled to, but Jim w^as alwaj^s on his feet 
before daybreak; and this morning as usual the sound of his 
voice awakened the party. 

"Get up, 5^ou booby! up with you now, you're fit for 
nothing but eating and sleeping. Stop j^our grumbling and 
come out of that buffalo robe, or I'll pull it off for you." 

Jim's words were interspersed with numerous expletives, 
which gave them great additional effect. Ellis drawled out 
something in a nasal tone from among the folds of his buffalo 
robe ; then slowly disengaged himself, rose into sitting pos- 
ture, stretched his long arms, yawned hideously, and finally, 
raising his tall person erect, stood staring round him to all 
the four quarters of the horizon. Deslaurier's fire was soon 
blazing, and the horses and mulps, loosened from their pick- 
ets, were feeding in the neighboring meadow. When we sat 
down to breakfast the prairie was still in the dusky light of 
morning ; and as the sun rose we were mounted and on our 
way again. 

"A white buffalo !" exclaimed Munroe. 

"I'll have that fellow," said Shaw, "if I run my horse to 
death after him." 

He threw the cover of his gun to Deslauriers and gal- 
loped out upon the prairie. 

"Stop, Mr. Shaw, stop!" called out Henry Chatillon, 
"you'll run down your horse for nothing; it's only a 
white ox." 

362 



The Buffalo Camp 363 

But Shaw was already out of hearing. The ox, who had 
no doubt strayed aw^ay from some of the government wagon 
trains, was standing beneath some low hills which boundea 
the plain in the distance. Not far from him a band of veri- 
table buffalo bulls were grazing; and startled at Shaw's 
approach, they all broke into a run, and went scrambling up 
the hillsides to gain the high prairie above. One of them in 
his haste and terror involved himself in a fatal catastrophe. 
Along the foot of the hills was a narrow strip of deep marshy 
soil, into which the bull plunged and hopelessly entangled 
himself. We all rode up to the spot. The huge carcass was 
half sunk in the mud, which flowed to his very chin, and his 
shaggy mane was outspread upon the surface. As we came 
near the bull began to struggle with convulsive strength ; he 
writhed to and fro, and in the energy of his fright and desper- 
ation w^ould lift himself for a mom.ent half out of the 
slough, while the reluctant mire returned a sucking sound as 
he strained to drag his limbs from its tenacious depths. We 
stimulated his exertions by getting behind him and twisting 
his tail; nothing would do. There was clearly no hope for 
him. After every effort his heaving sides were more deeply 
imbedded and the mire almost overflowed his nostrils ; he lay 
still at length, and looking round at us with a furious eye, 
seemed to resign himself to his fate. Ellis slowly dis- 
mounted, and deliberately leveling his boasted yager, shot the 
old bull through the heart; then he lazily climbed back 
again to his seat, pluming himself no doubt on having actu- 
ally killed a buffalo. That day the invincible yager drew 
blood for the first and last time during the whole journey. 

The morning w^as a bright and gay one, and the air so 
clear that on the farthest horizon the outline of the pale 
blue prairie was sharply drawn against the sky. Shaw felt 
in the mood for hunting; he rode in advance of the party, 
and before long we saw a file of bulls galloping at full speed 
upon a vast green swell oi the prairie at some distance in 



364 The. Oregon Trail 

front. Shaw came scouring along behind them, arrayed in 
his red shirt, which looked ver}- well in the distance ; he 
gained fast on the fugitives, and as the foremost bull was 
disappearing behind the summit of the swell, we saw him in 
the act of assailing the hindmost; a smoke sprang from the 
muzzle of his gun, and floated away before the w^ind like 
a little white cloud; the bull turned upon him, and just then 
the rising ground concealed them both from view. 

We were moving forward until about noon, when we 
stopped by the side of the Arkansas. At that moment Shaw 
appeared riding slowly dow^n the side of a distant hill ; his 
horse was tired and jaded, and when he threw^ his saddle 
upon the ground, I observed that the tails of two bulls were 
dangling behind it. No sooner w^ere the horses turned loose 
to feed than Henry, asking Munroe to go with him, took his 
rifle and walked quietly away. Shaw, Tete Rouge, and I 
sat down by the side of the cart to discuss the dinner which 
Deslauriers placed before us ; we had scarcely finished when 
we saw Munroe walking toward us along the river bank. 
Henry, he said, had killed four fat cow^s, and had sent him 
back for horses to bring in the meat. Shaw took a horse 
for himself and another for Henry, and he and Munroe left 
the camp together. After a short absence all three of them 
came back, their horses loaded with the choicest parts of the 
meat; we kept two of the cows for ourselves and gave the 
others to Munroe and his companions. Deslauriers seated 
himself on the grass before the pile of meat, and worked 
industriously for some time to cut it into thin broad sheets 
for drying. This is no easy matter, but Deslauriers had all 
the skill of an Indian squaw. Long before night cords of 
raw hide were stretched around the camp, and the meat 
was hung upon them to dry in the sunshine and pure air of 
the prairie. Our California companions were less sucres'^- 
tJ. zt the work; but they accomplished it atter rheir own 



The Buffalo Camp 365 

fashion, and their side of the camp was soon garnished in 
the same manner as our own. 

We meant to remain at this place long enough to pre- 
pare provisions for our journey to the frontier, which as we 
supposed might occupy about a month. Had the distance 
been twice as great and the party ten times as large, the 
unerring rifle of Henry Chatillon would have supplied meat 
enough for the whole within two days; we were obliged to 
remain, however, until it should be dry enough for trans- 
portation ; so we erected our tent and made the other 
arrangements for a permanent camp. The California men, 
who had no such shelter, contented themselves with arrang- 
ing their packs on the grass around their fire. In the mean- 
time we had nothing to do but amuse ourselves. Our tent 
was within a rod of the river, if the broad sand-beds, with 
a scanty stream of water coursing here and there along their 
surface, deserve to be dignified with the name of river. The 
vast flat plains on either side were almost on a level with the 
sand-beds, and they were bounded in the distance by low, 
monotonous hills, parallel to the course of the Arkansas. All 
was one expanse of grass ; there was no wood in view, except 
some trees and stunted bushes upon two islands which rose 
from amid the wet sands of the river. Yet far from being 
dull and tame this boundless scene was often a wild and ani- 
mated one; for twice a day, at sunrise and at noon, the buf- 
falo came issuing from the hills, slowly advancing in their 
grave processions to drink at the river. All our amusements 
were at their expense. Except an elephant, I have seen no 
animal that can surpass a buffalo bull in size and strength, 
and the w^orld may be searched in vain to find anything of a 
more ugly and ferocious aspect. At first sight of him every 
feeling of sympathy vanishes ; no man who has not experi- 
enced it can understand with what keen relish one inflicts his 
death wound, with what profound contentment of mind he 
beholds him fall. The cows are much smaller and of a 



366 The Oregon Trail 

gentler appearance, as becomes their sex. While in this camp 
we forbore to attack them, leaving to Henry Chatillon, who 
could better judge their fatness and good quality, the task 
of killing such as we wanted for use; but against the bulls 
vve waged an unrelenting war. Thousands of them might be 
slaughtered without causing any detriment to the species, for 
their numbers greatly exceed those of the cows; it is the 
hides of the latter alone which are used for the purpose of 
commerce and for making the lodges of the Indians ; and 
the destruction among them is therefore altogether dispropor- 
tioned. 

Our horses were tired, and we now usually hunted on 
foot. The wide, flat sand-beds of the Arkansas, as the reader 
will remember, lay close by the side of our camp. While we 
were lying on the grass after dinner, smoking, conversing, 
or laughing at Tete Rouge, one of us would look up and 
observe, far out on the plains bej^ond the river, certain black 
objects slowly approaching. He would inhale a parting whiff 
from the pipe, then rising lazily, take his rifle, which leaned 
against the cart, throw over his shoulder the strap of his 
pouch and powder-horn, and with his moccasins in his hand 
walk quietly across the sand toward the opposite side of the 
river. This was very easy; for though the sands were about 
a quarter of a mile wide, the water was nowhere more than 
two feet deep. The farther bank was about four or five feet 
high, and quite perpendicular, being cut away hy the water 
in spring. Tall grass grew along its edge. Putting it aside 
with his hand, and cautiously looking through it, the hunter 
can discern the huge shaggy back of the buffalo slowly sway- 
ing to and fro, as with his clumsy swinging gait he advances 
toward the water. The buffalo have regular paths by which 
they corpe down to drink. Seeing at a glance along which 
of these his intended victim is moving, the hunter crouches 
imder the bank within fifteen or twenty yards, it may be, of 
the point where the path enters the river. Here he sits down 



The Buffalo Camp 367 

quietly on the sand. Listening intentl)^, he hears the heavy 
monotonous tread of the approaching bull. The moment 
after he sees a motion among the long weeds and grass just 
at the spot where the path is channeled through the bank. 
An enormous black head is thrust out, the horns just visible 
amid the mass of tangled mane. Half sliding, half plung- 
ing, down comes the buffalo upon the river-bed below\ He 
steps out in full sight upon the sands. Just before him a 
runnel of water is gliding, and he bends his head to drink. 
You may hear the water as it gurgles down his capacious 
throat. He raises his head, and the drops trickle from his 
wet beard. He stands with an air of stupid abstraction, 
unconscious of the lurking danger. Noiselessly the hunter 
cocks his rifle. As he sits upon the sand, his knee is raised, 
and his elbow rests upon it, that he may level his heavy 
w^eapon with a steadier aim. The stock is at his shoulder ; 
his tye ranges along the barrel. Still he is in no haste to fire. 
The bull, with slow deliberation, begins his march over the 
sands to the other side. He advances his fore-leg, and 
exposes to view" a small spot, denuded of hair, just behind the 
point of his shoulder; upon this the hunter brings the sight 
of his rifle to bear; lightly and delicately his finger presses 
upon the hair-trigger. Quick as thought the spiteful crack 
of the rifle responds to his slight touch, and instantly in the 
middle of the bare spot appears a small red dot. The buffalo 
shivers ; death has overtaken him, he cannot tell from whence ; 
still he does not fall, but walks heavily forward, as if noth- 
ing had happened. Yet before he has advanced far out 
upon the sand, you see him stop ; he totters ; his knees bend 
under him, and his head sinks forward to the ground. Then 
his whole vast bulk sw^ays to one side ; he rolls over on the 
sand, and dies with a scarcely perceptible struggle. 

Waylaying the buffalo in this manner, and shooting them 
as they come to water, is the easiest and laziest method of 
hunting them. They may also be approached by crawling 



368 The Oregon Trail 

up ravines, or behind hills, or even over the open prairie. 
This is often surprisingly easy ; but at other times it requires 
the utmost skill of the most experienced hunter. Henry 
Chatillon was a man of extraordinary strength and hardi- 
hood; but I have seen him return to camp quite exhausted 
with his efforts, his limbs scratched and wounded, and his 
buckskin dress stuck full of the thorns of the prickly-pear 
among which he had been crawling. Sometimes he would 
lay flat upon his face, and drag himself along in this position 
for many' rods together. 

On the second day of our stay at this place, Henry 
went out for an afternoon hunt. Shaw and I remained in 
camp until, observing some bulls approaching the water 
upon the other side of the river, we crossed over to attack 
them. They were so near, however, that before we could 
get under cover of the bank our appearance as we walked 
over the sands alarmed them. Turning round before coming 
within gunshot, they began to move of? to the right in a 
direction parallel to the river. I climbed up the bank and 
ran after them. They w^ere walking swiftly, and before I 
could come within gunshot distance they slowly wheeled 
about and faced toward me. Before they had turned far 
enough to see me I had fallen flat on my face. For a 
moment they stood and stared at the strange object upon the 
grass; then turning away, again they walked on as before; 
and I, rising immediately, ran once more in pursuit. Again 
they wheeled about, and again I fell prostrate. Repeating 
this three or four times, I came at length within a hundred 
yards of the fugitives, and as I saw them turning again I sat 
down and leveled my rifle. The one in the center was the 
largest I had ever seen. I shot him behind the shoulder. His 
two companions ran of¥. He attempted to follow, but soon 
came to a stand, and at length lay down as quietly as an ox 
chewing the cud. Cautiously approaching him, I saw by his 
dull and jellylike eye that he was dead. 



The Buffalo Camp 369 

When I began the chase, the prairie was almost tenant- 
less; but a great multitude of buffalo 'had suddenly thronged 
upon it, and looking up, I saw within fifty rods a heavy, 
dark column stretching to the right' and left as far as I 
could see. I walked toward them. My approach did not 
ala.rm them in the least. The column itself consisted entirely 
of cows and calves, but a great many old bulls were ranging 
about the prairie on its flank, and as I drew near they faced 
toward me with such a shaggy and ferocious look that I 
thought it best to proceed no farther. Indeed I was already 
within close rifle-shot of the column, and I sat down on the 
ground to watch their movements. Sometimes the whole 
w^ould stand still, their heads all facing one way; then they 
would trot forw^ard, as if by a common impulse, their hoofs 
and horns clattering together as they moved. I soon began 
to hear at a distance on the left the sharp reports of a rifle, 
again and again repeated ; and not long after, dull and heavy 
sounds succeeded, which I recognized as the familiar voice 
of Shaw's double-barreled gun. When Henry's rifle was at 
w^ork there was always meat to be brought in. I went back 
across the river for a horse, and returning, reached the spot 
where the hunters were standing. The buffalo were visible 
on the distant prairie. The living had retreated from the 
ground, but ten or twelve carcasses were scattered in various 
directions. Henry, knife in hand, was stooping over a dead 
cow, cutting away the best and fattest of the meat. 

When Shaw left me he had walked down for some dis- 
tance under the river bank to find another bull. At length 
he saw the plains covered with the host of buffalo, and soon 
after heard the crack of Henry's rifle. Ascending the bank, 
he crawled through the grass, which for a rod or two from 
the river was very high and rank. He had not crawled far 
before to his astonishment he saw Henry standing erect upon 
the prairie, almost surrounded by the buffalo. Henry was 
in his appropriate element. Nelson, on the deck of the 



370 The Oregon Trail 

Victoi-y\ hardly felt a prouder sense of mastery than he. 
Quite unconscious that any one was looking at him, he stood 
at the full height of his tall, strong figure, one hand resting 
upon his side, and the other arm leaning carelessly on the 
muzzle of his rifle. His ej^es were ranging over the singular 
assemblage around him. Now and then he would select such 
a cow as suited him, level his rifle, and shoot her dead; then 
quietly reloading, he would resume his former position. The 
buffalo seemed no more to regard his presence than if he 
were one of themselves ; the bulls were bellowing and butting 
at each other, or else rolling about in the dust. A group of 
buffalo would gather about the carcass of a dead cow, snuff- 
ing at her wounds; and sometimes they would come behind 
those that had not yet fallen, and endeavor to push them 
from the spot. Now and then some old bull would face 
toward Henry vv^ith an air of stupid amazement, but none 
seemed inclined to attack or fly from him. For some 
time Shaw lay among the grass, looking in surprise at this 
extraordinary sight; at length he crawled cautiously forward, 
and spoke in a low voice to Henry, who told him to rise 
and come on. Still the buffalo showed no sign of fear ; they 
remained gathered about their dead companions. Henry 
had already killed as many cows as we wanted for use, and 
Shaw, kneeling behind one of the carcasses, shot five bulls 
before the rest thought it necessary to disperse. 

The frequent stupidity and infatuation of the buffalo 
seems the more remarkable from the contrast it offers to their 
wildness and wariness at other times. Henry knew all their 
peculiarities; he had studied them as a scholar studies his 
books, and he derived quite as much pleasure from the occu- 
pation. The buffalo were a kind of companions to him, and, 
as he said, he never felt alone when they were about him. 
He took great pride in his skill in hunting. Henry was one 

iThe Victory was Lord Nelson's flagship at the battle of Trafalgar, October 
21. 1805. 



The Buffalo Camp 371 

of the most modest of men ; j-et in the simplicity and frank- 
ness of his character, it was quite clear that he looked upon 
his pre-eminence in this respect as a thing too palpable and 
well established ever to be disputed. But whatever may 
have been his estimate of his ow^n skill, it w^as rather below 
than above that which others placed upon it. The only 
time that I ever saw a shade of scorn darken his face was 
when two volunteer soldiers, who had just killed a buffalo for 
the first time, undertook to instruct him as to the best method 
of "approaching." To borrow an illustration from an oppo- 
site side of life, an Eton^ boy might as well have sought to 
enlighten Porson" on the formation of a Greek verb, or a 
Fleet Street^ shopkeeper to instruct Chesterfield* concerning 
a point of etiquette. Henry always seemed to think that he 
had a sort of prescriptive right to the buffalo, and to look 
upon them as something belonging peculiarly to himself. 
Nothing excited his indignation so much as any wanton 
destruction committed among the cows, and in his view shoot- 
ing a calf was a cardinal sin. 

Henry Chatillon and Tete Rouge were of the same age; 
that is, about thirty. Henry was twice as large, and fully 
six times as strong as Tete Rouge. Henry's face was rough- 
ened by winds and storms ; Tete Rouge's was bloated by 
sherry cobblers and brandy toddy. Henry talked of Indians 
and buffalo ; Tete Rouge of theaters and oyster cellars. 
Henrj^ had led a life of hardship and privation ; Tete Rouge 
never had a whim which he would not gratify at the first 
moment he was able. Henry moreover was the most disin- 
terested man I ever saw; while Tete Rouge, though equally 
good-natured in his way, cared for nobody but himself. Yet 
we w^ould not have lost him on any account; he admirably 

lEton College, a famous English public school, founded by Henry VI. in 1440. 

^Richard Porson, a famous Greek scholar, b. 1759, d. 1808. 

^Fleet Street, London, long famous on account of the Fleet Prison for debtors, 
now a busy commercial thoroughfare. 

<The Earl of Chesterfield, b. 1694, d. 1773, whose Letters to his Son, published 
in 1774, form the most famous exposition of the conduct proper for a gentleman. 



372 The Oregon Trail 

served the purpose of a jester in a feudal castle; our camp 
would have been lifeless without him. For the past week he 
had fattened in a most amazing manner; and indeed this 
was not at all surprising, since his appetite was most inordi- 
nate. He was eating from morning till night; half the time 
he would be at work cooking some private repast for himself, 
and he paid a visit to the coffee-pot eight or ten times a day. 
His rueful and disconsolate face became jovial and rubicund, 
his eyes stood out like a lobster's, and his spirits, which before 
were sunk to the depths of despondency, were now elated in 
proportion ; all day he w^as singing, whistling, laughing, and 
telling stories. Being mortally afraid of Jim Gurney, he 
kept close in the neighborhood of our tent. As he had seen 
an abundance of low dissipated life, and had a considerable 
fund of humor, his anecdotes were extremely amusing, espe- 
cially since he never hesitated to place himself in a ludicrous 
point of view, provided he could raise a laugh by doing so, 
Tete Rouge, however, was sometimes rather troublesome; 
he had an inveterate habit of pilfering provisions at all times 
of the daj^ He set ridicule at utter defiance, and being 
without a particle of self-respect, he would never have given 
over his tricks, even if they had drawn upon him the scorn 
of the w^hole party. Now and then, indeed, something w^orse 
than laughter fell to his share ; on these occasions he would 
exhibit much contrition, but half an hour after we would 
generally observe him stealing round to the box at the back 
of the cart, and slyly making off with the provisions which 
Deslauriers had laid by for supper. He was very fond of 
smoking; but having no tobacco of his own, we used to pro- 
vide him with as much as he wanted, a small piece at a time. 
At first we gave him half a pound together, but this experi- 
ment proved an entire failure, for he invariably lost not only 
the tobacco, but the knife intrusted to him for cutting it, and 
a few minutes after he would come to us with many apologies 
and beg for more. 



The Buffalo Camp 373 

We had been two da^'s at this camp, and some of the 
meat was nearly fit for transportation, when a storm came 
suddenl)^ upon us. About sunset the whole sky grew as black 
as ink, and the long grass at the river's edge bent and rose 
mournfully with the first gusts of the approaching hurricane. 
Munroe and his two companions brought their guns and 
placed them under cover of our tent. Having no shelter 
for themselves, they built a fire of driftwood that might have 
defied a cataract, and wrapped in their buffalo robes, sat on 
the ground around it to bide the fury of the storm. Des- 
lauriers ensconced himself under the cover of the cart. 
Shaw and I, together with Henry and Tete Rouge, crow^ded 
into the little tent; but first of all the dried meat was piled 
together, and well protected by buffalo robes pinned firmly 
to the ground. About nine o'clock the storm broke, amid 
absolute darkness ; it blew a gale, and torrents of rain roared 
over the boundless expanse of open prairie. Our tent was 
filled with mist and spray, beating through the canvas and 
saturating everything within. We could only distinguish 
each other at short intervals by the dazzling flash of lightning, 
which displayed the whole waste around us with its momen- 
tary glare. We had our fears for the tent; but for an hour 
or two it stood fast, until at length the cap gave way before 
a furious blast ; the pole tore through the top, and in an 
instant we were half suffocated by the cold and dripping folds 
of the canvas, w^hich fell down upon us. Seizing upon our 
guns, we placed them erect, in order to lift the saturated cloth 
above our heads. In this agreeable situation, involved among 
wet blankets and buffalo robes, we spent several hours of the 
night, during which the storm w^ould not abate for a moment, 
but pelted down above our heads with merciless fury. Before 
long the ground beneath us became soaked with moisture, and 
the water gathered there in a pool two or three inches deep ; 
so that for a considerable part of the night we were partially 
immersed in a cold bath. In spite of all this, Tete Rouge's 



374 The Oregon Trail 



1 

flow of spirits did not desert him for an instant; he laughed, 
whistled, and sung in defiance of the storm, and that night 
he paid off the long arrears of ridicule which he owed us. 
While we lay in silence, enduring the infliction with w^hat 
philosophy w^e could muster, Tete Rouge, who was intoxi- 
cated with animal spirits, was cracking jokes at our expense 
by the hour together. At about three o'clock in the morning, 
"preferring the tjTanny of the open night"^ to such a wretched 
shelter, we crawled out from beneath the fallen canvas. The 
wind had abated, but the rain fell steadily. The fire of the 
California men still blazed amid tlie darkness, and we joined 
them as they sat around it. We made ready some hot coffee 
by way of refreshment; but when some of the party sought 
to replenish their cups, it was found that Tete Rouge, having 
disposed of his own share, had privately abstracted the coffee- 
pot and drank up the rest of the contents out of the spout. 

In the morning, to our great joy, an unclouded sun rose 
upon the prairie. We presented rather a laughable appear- 
ance, for the cold and clammy buckskin, saturated with water, 
clung fast to our limbs; the light wind and warm sunshine 
soon dried them again, and then we were all incased In armor 
of intolerable rigldlt)'. Roaming all day over the prairie 
and shooting two or three bulls were scarcely enough to 
restore the stiffened leather to its usual pliancy. 

Besides Henry Chatillon, Shaw and I w^ere the only 
hunters In the party. Munroe this morning made an attempt 
to run a buffalo, but his horse could not come up to the 
game. Shaw went out with him, and being better mounted 
soon found himself in the midst of the herd. Seeing nothing 
but cows and calves around him, he checked his horse. An 
old bull came galloping on the open prairie at some distance 
behind, and turning, Shaw rode across his path, leveling his 
gun as he passed, and shooting him through the shoulder Into 

^From Shakspere's King Lear, Act III, Scene 4, 1. 2. 



The Buffalo Camp 375 

the heart. The heavy bullets of Shaw's double-barreled gun 
made wild work wherever they struck. 

A great flock of buzzards were usually soaring about a 
few trees that stood on the island just below our camp. 
Throughout the whole of yesterday we had noticed an eagle 
among them; to-day he was still there; and Tete Rouge, 
declaring that he would kill the bird of America, borrowed 
Deslauriers's gun and set out on his unpatriotic mission. As 
might have been expected, the eagle suffered no great harm 
at his hands. He soon returned, saying that he could not 
find him, but had shot a buzzard instead. Being required 
to produce the bird in proof of his assertion, he said he 
believed that he was not quite dead, but he must be hurt, 
from the swiftness with which he flew off. 

"If you want," said Tete Rouge, 'Til go and get one of 
his feathers; I knocked off plenty of them when I shot him." 

Just opposite our camp w^as another island covered with 
bushes, and behind it was a deep pool of water, while two 
or three considerable streams coursed over the sand not far 
off. I was bathing at this place in the afternoon when a 
white wolf, larger than the largest Newfoundland dog, ran 
out from behind the point of the island and galloped leisurely 
over the sand not half a stone's throw distant. I could 
plainly see his red ej^es and the bristles about his snout; he 
was an ugly scoundrel, with a bushy tail, large head, and a 
most repulsive countenance. Having neither rifle to shoot 
nor stone to pelt him with, I was looking eagerly after some 
missile for his benefit, when the report of a gun came from 
the camp, and the ball threw up the sand just beyond him; at 
this he gave a slight jump, and stretched away so swiftly 
that he soon dwindled into a mere speck on the distant sand- 
beds. The number of carcasses that by this time were lying 
about the prairie all around us summoned the wolves from 
every quarter; the spot where Shaw and Henry had hunted 
together soon became their favorite resort, for here about a 



376 The Oregon Trail 

dozen dead buffalo were fermenting under the hot sun. I 
used often to go over the river and watch them at their 
meal ; by lying under the bank it was easy to get a full view of 
them. Three different kinds w^ere present ; there were the 
white wolves and the gray wolves, both extremely large, and 
besides these the small prairie wolves, not much bigger tha i 
spaniels. They would howl and fight in a crowd around a 
single carcass, j'et they were so watchful, and their senses so 
acute, that I never was able to crawl within a fair shooting 
distance; whenever I attempted it they would all scatter at 
once and glide silently away through the tall grass. The air 
above this spot was always full of buzzards or black vultures ; 
whenever the wolves left a carcass they would descend upon 
it, and cover it so densely that a rifle-bullet shot at random 
among the gormandizing crowd would generally strike down 
two or three of them. These birds w^ould now be sailing by 
scores just above our camp, their broad black wings seem- 
ing half transparent as they expanded them against the bright 
sky. The wolves and the buzzards thickened about us with 
every hour, and two or three eagles also came into the feast. 
I killed a bull within rifle-shot of the camp; that night the 
wolves made a fearful howling close at hand, and in the 
morning the carcass was completely hollowed out by these 
voracious feeders. 

After we had remained four days at this camp we pre- 
pared to leave it. We had for our ow^n part about five 
hundred pounds of dried meat, and the California men had 
prepared some three hundred more ; this consisted of the 
fattest and choicest parts of eight or nine cows, a very small 
quantity only being taken from each, and the rest abandoned 
to the wolves. The pack animals were laden, the horses 
were saddled, and the mules harnessed to the cart. Even 
Tete Rouge was ready at last, and slowly moving from the 
ground, we resumed our journey eastward. When we had 
advanced about a mile, Shaw missed a valuable hunting 



The Buffalo Camp 377 

knife and turned back in search of it, thinking that he had 
left it at the camp. He approached the place cautiously, fear- 
ful that Indians might be lurking about; for a deserted 
camp is dangerous to return to. He saw no enemy, but the 
scene was a wild and dreary one ; the prairie was over- 
shadowed by dull, leaden clouds, for the day was dark and 
gloomy. The ashes of the fires were still smoking by the 
i river-side ; the grass around them was trampled down by men 
I and horses, and strewn with all the litter of a camp. Our 
departure had been a gathering signal to the birds and beasts 
of prey. Shaw assured me that literally dozens of wolves 
were prowling about the smoldering fires, while multitudes 
were roaming over the prairie around ; they all fled as he 
approached, some running over the sand-beds and some over 
the grassy plains. The vultures in great clouds were soaring 
overhead, and the dead bull near the camp was completely 
blackened by the flock that had alighted upon it ; they flapped 
their broad wings and stretched upward their crested heads 
and long skinny necks, fearing to remain, yet reluctant to 
leave their disgusting feast. As he searched about the fires 
he saw the wolves seated on the distant hills waiting for 
his departure. Having looked in vain for his knife, he 
mounted again and left the wolves and the vultures to 
banquet freely upon the carrion of the camp. 



CHAPTER XXVI 

DOWN THE ARKANSAS 

In the summer of 1846 the wild and lonely banks of the 
Upper Arkansas beheld for the first time the passage of an 
army. General Kearny, on his march to Santa Fe, adopted 
this route in preference to the old trail of the Cimarron. 
When we came down the main body of the troops had 
already passed on ; Price's Missouri regimervt/ however, 
was still on the way, having left the frontier much later 
than the rest ; and about this time we began to meet them 
moving along the trail, one or two companies at a time. 
No men ever embarked upon a military expedition with a 
greater love for the work before them than the Missouri- 
ans; but if discipline and subordination be the criterion of 
merit, these soldiers were worthless indeed. Yet when their 
exploits have rung through all America, it would be absurd 
to deny that they were excellent irregular troops. Their 
victories were gained in the teeth of every established 
precedent of warfare ; they were owing to a singular com- 
bination of military qualities in the men themselves. With- 
out discipline or a spirit of subordination, they knew how 
to keep their ranks and act as one man. Doniphan's regi- 
ment^ marched through New Mexico more like a band of 
free companions than like the paid soldiers of a modern 
government. When General Taylor complimented Doni- 
phan on his success at Sacramento and elsewhere,^ the colo- 

iSterling Price, b. 1809, d. 1867, was colonel of the Second Missouri Cavalry 
in the Mexican War. 

^Alexander William Doniphan, b. 1808, d. 1887, was colonel of the First 
Missouri Cavalry in the Mexican War. 

Hn the winter of 1846-1847 a force under Col. A. W. Doniphan, marching 
south from New Mexico through El Paso, defeated the Mexicans at Brazito and 
Sacramento, Chihuahua. 

378 



• Down the Arkansas 379 

nel's reply' very well illustrates the relations which subsisted 
between the officers and men of his command : 

"I don't know anything of the maneuvers. The boys 
kept coming to me to let them charge ; and when I saw 
a good opportunity, I told them they might go. They were 
off like a shot, and that's all I know about it." 

The backwoods lawyer was better fitted to conciliate 
the good-will than to command the obedience of his men. 
There were many serving under him, who both from char- 
acter and education could better have held command than he. 

At the battle of Sacramento his frontiersmen fought 
under every possible disadvantage. The Mexicans had 
chosen' their own position; they were drawn up across the 
valley that led to their native city of Chihuahua; their whole 
front was covered bv intrenchments and defended bv bat- 
teries of heavy cannon ; they outnumbered the invaders five 
to one. An eagle flew over the Americans, and a deep mur- 
mur rose along their lines. The enemy's batteries opened ; 
long they remained under fire, but when at length the word 
was given, they shouted and ran forward. In one of the 
divisions, when midway to the enemy, a drunken officer 
ordered a halt; the exasperated men hesitated to obey. 

"Forward, boys!" cried a private from the ranks; and 
the Americans, rushing like tigers upon the enemy, bounded 
over the breastwork. Four hundred Mexicans were slain 
upon the spot and the rest fled, scattering over the plain like 
sheep. The standards, cannon, and baggage were taken, 
and among the rest a wagon laden with cords, which the 
Mexicans, in the fullness of their confidence, had made 
ready for tying the American prisoners. 

Doniphan's volunteers, who gained this victory, passed 
up with the main army; but Price's soldiers, whom we now 
met, were men from the same neighborhood, precisely simi- 
lar in character, manner, and appearance. One forenoon, 
as we were descending upon a very wide meadow where we 



380 The Oregon Trail * 

meant to rest for an hour or two, we saw a dark body of 
horsemen approaching at a distance. In order to find water, 
we were obliged to turn aside to the river bank, a full half 
mile from the trail. Here we put up a kind of awning, and 
spreading buffalo robes on the ground, Shaw and I sat down 
to smoke beneath it. 

"We are going to catch it now," said Shaw; "look at 
those fellows; there'll be no peace for us here." 

And in good truth about half the volunteers had strag- 
gled away from the line of march, and were riding over the 
meadow toward us. 

"How are you?" said the first w^ho came up, alighting 
from his horse and throwing himself upon the ground. The 
rest followed close, and a score of them soon gathered about 
us, some lying at full length and some sitting on horseback. 
They all belonged to a company raised in St. Louis. There 
were some ruffian faces among them, and some haggard with 
debauchery; but on the whole they were extremely good- 
looking men, superior beyond measure to the ordinary rank 
and file of an army. Except that they were booted to the 
knees, thefy w^ore their belts and military trappings over the 
ordinary dress of citizens. Besides their swords and holster 
pistols, they carried slung from their saddles the excellent 
Springfield carbines, loaded at the breech. They inquired 
the character of our party, and were anxious to know the 
prospect of killing buffalo, and the chance that their horses 
would stand the journey to Santa Fe. All this was well 
enough, but a moment after a worse visitation came upon us. 

"How are you, strangers? whar are you going and whar 
are j^ou from?" said a fellow, w^ho came trotting up with an 
old straw hat on his head. He w^as dressed in the coarsest 
brown homespun cloth. His face was rather sallow from 
fever-and-ague, and his tall figure, although strong and 
sinewy, was quite thin, and had besides an angular look, 
which, together with his boorish seat on horseback, gave him 



Down the Arkansas 381 

an appearance anything but graceful. Plenty more of the 
same stamp were close behind him. Their company was 
raised in one of the frontier counties, and we soon had abund- 
ant evidence of their rustic breeding; dozens of them came 
crowding round, pushing between our first visitors, and 
staring at us with unabashed faces. 

"Are you the captain?" asked one fellow. 

"What's your business out here?" asked another. 

"Where do you live when you're at home?" said a third. 

"I reckon you're traders," surmised a fourth; and to 
crown the whole, one of them came confidently to my side 
and inquired in a low voice, "What's your partner's name?" 

As each newcomer repeated the same questions, the nui- 
sance became intolerable. Our military visitors were soon, 
disgusted at the concise nature of our replies, and we could 
overhear them muttering curses against us. While we sat 
smoking, not in the best imaginable humor, Tete Rouge's 
tongue was never idle. He never forgot his military char- 
acter, and during the whole interview he was incessantly 
busy among his fellow-soldiers. At length we placed him 
on the ground before us, and told him that he might play 
the part of spokesman for the whole. Tete Rouge was 
delighted, and we soon had the satisfaction of seeing him talk 
and gabble at such a rate that the torrent of questions was 
in a great measure diverted from us. A little \yhile after, to 
our amazement, we saw a large cannon with four horses 
come lumbering up behind the crowd ; and the driver, who 
was perched on one of the animals, stretching his neck so as 
to look over the rest of the men, called out: 

"Whar are 30U from, and what's your business?" 

The captain of one of the companies was among our vis- 
itors, drawn by the same curiosity that had attracted his men. 
Unless their faces belied them, not a few in the crowd might 
with great advantage have changed places with their com- 
mander. 



382 The Oregon Trail 

"Well, men," said he, lazily rising from the ground 
where he had been lounging, "it's getting late, I reckon we 
had better be moving." 

"I shan't start 3'et, anyhow," said one fellow, who was 
laying half asleep with his head resting on his arm. 

"Don't be in a hurry, captain," added the lieutenant. 

"Well, have it your own way, we'll wait a while longer," 
replied the obsequious commander. 

At length, however, our visitors went straggling away as 
they had come, and we, to our great relief, were left alone 
again. 

No one can deny the intrepid bravery of these men, their 
intelligence and the bold frankness of their character, free 
from all that is mean and sordid. Yet for the moment the 
extreme roughness of their manners half inclines one to forget 
their heroic qualities. Most of them seem without the least 
perception of delicacy or propriety, though among them indi- 
viduals may be found in whose manners there is a plain 
courtesy, while their features bespeak a gallant spirit equal 
to any enterprise. 

No one was more relieved than Deslauriers by the depart- 
ure of the volunteers; for dinner was getting colder every 
moment. He spread a well-whitened buffalo hide upon the 
grass, placed in the middle the juicy hump of a fat cow, 
ranged around it the tin plates and cups, and then acquainted 
us that all was ready. Tete Rouge, with his usual alacrity 
on such occasions, was the first to take his seat. In his former 
capacity of steamboat clerk, he had learned to prefix the 
honorary Mister to ever3-body's name, whether of high or low 
degree ; so Jim Gurney was Mr. Gurney, Henry was Mr. 
Henry, and even Deslauriers, for the first time in his life, 
heard himself addressed as Mr. Deslauriers. This did not 
prevent his conceiving a violent enmity against Tete Rouge, 
who in his futile though praiseworthy attempts to make him- 
self useful, used always to intermeddle with' cooking the din- 



I 

I Down the Arkansas 383 

ners. Deslaurier's disposition knew no medium between 
smiles and sunshine and a downright tornado of wrath ; he 
said nothing to Tete Rouge, but his wrongs rankled in his 
breast. Tete Rouge had taken his place at the dinner ; it was 
his happiest moment; he sat enveloped in the old buffalo coat, 
sleeves turned up in preparation for the work, and his short 
legs crossed on the grass before him; he had a cup of coffee 
by his side and his knife ready in his hand, and while he 
looked upon the fat hump ribs, his eyes dilated with anticipa- 
tion. Deslauriers sat just opposite to him, and the rest of us 
by this time had taken our seats. , 

*'How is this, Deslauriers? You haven't given us bread 
enough." 

At this Deslauriers's placid face flew instantly into a 
paroxysm of contortions. He grinned with wrath, chattered, 
gesticulated, and hurled forth a volley of incoherent words 
in broken English at the astonished Tete Rouge. It was just 
possible to make out that he was accusing him of having stolen, 
and eaten four large cakes which had been laid by for din- 
ner. Tete Rouge, utterly confounded at this sudden attack, 
stared at Deslauriers for a moment in dumb amazement, 
w4th mouth and eyes wide open. At last he found speech, 
and protested that the accusation was false ; and that he could 
not conceive how he had offended Mr. Deslauriers, or pro- 
voked him to use such ungentlemanly expressions. The tem- 
pest of words raged with such fury that nothing else could be 
heard. But Tete Rouge, from his greater command of Eng- 
lish, had a manifest advantage over Deslauriers, who, after 
sputtering and grimacing for a while, found his words quite 
inadequate to the expression of his wrath. He jumped up 
and vanished, jerking out between his teeth one furious sacre 
enfant de garce, a Canadian title of honor, made doubly 
emphatic by being usually applied together with a cut of the 
whip to refractory mules and horses. 

The next morning we saw an old buffalo bull escorting 



384 The Oregon Trail 

his cow with two small calves over the prairie. Close behind 
came four or five large white wolves, sneaking stealthily 
through the long meadow-grass, and watching for the moment 
when one of the children should chance to lag behind his 
parents. The old bull kept well on his guard, and faced 
about now and then to keep the prowling ruffians at a dis- 
tance. 

As we approached our nooning place, we saw five or 
six buffalo standing at the very summit of a tall bluff. Trot- 
ting forw^ard to the spot where we meant to stop, I flung 
off my saddle and turned my horse loose. By making a cir- 
cuit under cover of some rising ground, I reached the foot of 
the bluff unnoticed, and climbed up its steep side. Lying 
under the brow of the declivity, I prepared to fire at the 
buffalo, who stood on the flat surface not five j^ards distant. 
Perhaps I was too hasty, for the gleaming rifle-barrel leveled 
over the edge caught their notice ; they turned and ran. Close 
as they were, it was impossible to kill them when in that posi- 
tion, and stepping upon the summit I pursued them over the 
high arid table-land. It w^as extremely rugged and broken ; 
a great sandy ravine w^as channeled through it, with smaller 
ravines entering on each side like tributary streams. The 
buffalo scattered, and I soon lost sight of most of them as 
they scuttled away through the sandy chasms; a bull and a 
cow alone kept in view. For a while they ran along the 
edge of the great ravine, appearing and disappearing as they 
dived into som.e chasm and again emerged from it. At last 
they stretched out upon the broad prairie, a plain nearly flat 
and almost devoid of verdure, for every short grass-blade was 
dried and shriveled by the glaring sun. Now and then the 
old bull would face toward me; whenever he did so I fell 
to the ground and lay motionless. In this manner I chased 
them for about two miles, until at length I heard in front a 
deep hoarse bellowing. A moment after a band of about a 
hundred buDs, before hidden by a slight swell of the plain, 



Down the Ar'^'ansas 385 

came at once into view. The fugitives ran toward them. 
Instead of mingling with the band, as I expected, they passed 
directly through, and continued their flight. At this I gave 
up the chase, and kneeling down, crawled to within gunshot 
of the bulls, and with panting breath and trickling brow sat 
down on the ground to watch them ; my presence did not 
disturb them in the least. They were not feeding, for, 
indeed, there was nothing to eat; but they seemed to have 
chosen the parched and scorching desert as the scene of their 
r.musements. Some were rolling on the ground amid a cloud 
of dust; others, with a hoarse rumbling bellow, were butting 
their large heads together, while many stood motionless as 
if quite inanimate. Except their monstrous growth of tangled 
grizzly mane, they had no hair ; for their old coat had fallen 
ofif in the spring, and their new one had not as yet appeared. 
Sometimes an old bull would step forward, and gaze at me 
with a grim and stupid countenance ; then he would turn and 
butt his next neighbor ; then he would lie down and roll ovej- 
in the dirt, kicking his hoofs in the air. When satisfied with 
this amusement he w^ould jerk his head and shoulders upward, 
and resting on his forelegs stare at me in this position, half 
blinded by his mane and his face covered with dirt; then up 
he would spring upon all-fours, and shake his dusty sides; 
turning half round, he would stand with his beard touching 
the ground, in an attitude of profound abstraction, as if 
reflecting on his puerile conduct. "You are too ugly to live,'* 
thought I ; and aiming at the ugliest, I shot three of them in 
succession. The rest were not at all discomposed at this; 
they kept on bellowing and butting and rolling on the ground 
as before. Henry Chatillon always cautioned us to keep 
perfectly quiet in the presence of a wounded buffalo, for any 
movem.ent is spt to excite him to rnake an attack; so I sat 
still upon the ground, loading and firing with as little motion 
as possible. While I was thus employed, a spectator made 
his appearance: a little antelope came running up with 



386 The Oregon Trail 

remarkable gentleness to within fifty yards ; and there it stood, 
its slender neck arched, its small horns thrown back, and its 
large dark eyes gazing on me with a look of eager curiosity. 
By the side of the shaggy and brutish monsters before me, 
it seemed like some lovely young girl wandering near a den 
of robbers or a nest of bearded pirates. The buffalo looked 
uglier than ever. "Here goes for another of you," thought 
I, feeling in my pouch for a percussion-cap. Not a percus- 
sion cap was there. My good rifle was useless as an iron 
bar. One of the wounded bulls had not yet fallen, and I 
w^aited for some time, hoping every moment that his strength 
would fail him. He still stood firm, looking grimly at me, 
and disregarding Henry's advice I rose and walked away. 
Many of the bulls turned and looked at me, but the wounded 
brute made no attack. I soon came upon a deep ravine which 
would give me shelter in case of emergency; so I turned 
round and threw a stone at the bulls. They received it with 
the utmost indifference. Feeling myself insulted at their 
refusal to be frightened, I swung my hat, shouted, and made 
a show of running toward them ; at this they crowded 
together and galloped off, leaving their dead and wounded 
upon the field. As I moved toward the camp I saw the last 
survivor totter and fall dead. My speed in returning was 
wonderfully quickened by the reflection that the Pawnees 
were abroad, and that I was defenseless in case of meeting 
with an enemy. I saw no living thing, however, except two 
or three squalid old bulls scrambling among the sand-hills 
that flanked the great ravine. When I reached camp the 
party were nearly ready for the afternoon move. 

We encamped that evening at a short distance from the 
river bank. About midnight, as we all lay asleep on the 
ground, the man nearest to me gently reaching out his hand 
touched my shoulder, and cautioned me at the same time not 
to move. It was bright starlight. Opening my eyes and 
slightly turning, I saw a large white wolf moving stealthily 



Down the Arkansas 387 

around the embers of our fire, with his nose close to the 
ground. Disengaging my hand from the blanket, I drew 
the cover from my rifle, which lay close at my side; the 
motion alarmed the wolf, and with long leaps he bounded 
out of the camp. Jumping up, I fired after him when he 
was about thirty yards distant; the melancholy hum of the 
bullet sounded far away through the night. At the sharp 
report, so suddenly breaking upon the stillness, all the men 
sprang up. 

"You've killed him," said one of them. 

"No I haven't," said I; "there he goes, running along the 
river. 

"Then there's two of them. Don't you see that one lying 
out yonder?" 

We went out to it, and instead of a dead white wolf 
found the bleached skull of a buffalo. I had missed my 
mark, and what was worse, had grossly violated a standing 
law of the prairie. When in a dangerous part of the country, 
it is considered highly imprudent to fire a gun after encamp- 
ing, lest the report should reach the ears of the Indians. 

The horses were saddled in the morning, and the last man 
had lighted his pipe at the dying ashes of the fire. The 
beauty of the day enlivened us all. Even Ellis felt its influ- 
ence, and occasionally made a remark as we rode along, and 
Jim Gurney told endless stories of his cruisings in the United 
States service. The buffalo were abundant, and at length a 
large band of them went running up the hills on the left. 

"Do you see them buffalo?" said Ellis; "now I'll bet any 
man I'll go and kill one with my yager." 

And leaving his horse to follow on with the party, he 
strode up the hill after them. Henry looked at us with his 
peculiar humorous expression, and proposed that we should 
follow Ellis to see how he would kill a fat cow. As soon 
as he was out of sight we rode up the hill after him, and 
jvaited behind a little ridge till we heard the report of the 



•^^8 The Oregon Trail 

unfailing yager. Mounting to the top, we saw Ellis clutch- 
ing his favorite weapon with both hands, and staring after 
the buffalo, who one and all w^ere galloping off at full speed. 
As we descended the hill we saw the party straggling along 
the trail below\ When we joined them, another scene of 
amateur hunting awaited us. I forgot to say that when we 
met the volunteers Tete Rouge had obtained a horse from 
one of them, in exchange for his mule, whom he feared and 
detested. This horse he christened James. James, though 
not worth so much as the mule, was a large and strong ani- 
mal. Tete Rouge was very proud of his new acquisition, and 
suddenly became ambitious to run a buffalo with him. At 
his request, I lent him my pistols, though not without great 
misgivings, since when Tete Rouge hunted buffalo the pur- 
suer was in more danger than the pursued. He hung the 
liolsters at his saddle-bow ; and now, as we passed along, a 
tand of bulls left their grazing in the meadow and galloped 
in a long file across the train in front. 

"Now's your chance, Tete; come, let's see you kill a bull." 
Thus urged, the hunter cried "Get up!" and James, obedi- 
ent to the signal, cantered deliberately forward at an abomin- 
ably uneasy gait. Tete Rouge, as we contemplated him rrom 
behind, made a most remarkable figure. He still wore the 
old buffalo coat ; his blanket, which was tied in a loose bundle 
behind his saddle, went jolting from one side to the other, 
and a large tin canteen half full of water, which hung from 
his pommel, was jerked about his leg in a manner which 
greatly embarrassed him. 

"Let out your horse, man ; lay on your whip !" we called 
out to him. The buffalo were getting farther off at every 
instant. James, being ambitious to mend his pace, tugged 
hard at the rein, and one of his rider's boots escaped from the 
stirrup. 

"Whoa! I say, whoa!" cried Tete Rouge, in great per- 
turbation, and after much effort James's progress was 



Down the Arkansas ^89 

arrested. The hunter came trotting back to the party, dis- 
gusted with buffalo running, and he was received with over- 
whelming congratulations. 

"Too good a chance to lose," said Shaw, pointing to 
another band of bulls on the left. We lashed our horses 
and galloped upon them. Shaw killed one with each barrel 
of his gun. I separated another from the herd and shot him. 
The small bullet of the rifled pistol, striking too far back, 
did not immediately take effect, and the bull ran on with una- 
bated speed. Again and again I snapped the remaining pistol 
at him. I primed it afresh three or four times, and each 
time it missed fire, for the touch-hole was clogged up. 
Returning it to the holster, I began to load the empty pistol, 
still galloping by the side of the bull. By this time he was 
growing desperate. The foam flew from his jaws and his 
tongue lolled out. Before the pistol was loaded he sprang 
upon me, and followed up his attack with a furious rush. The 
only alternative was to run away or be killed. I took to 
flight, and the bull, bristling with fury, pursued me closely. 
The pistol was soon ready, and then looking back, I saw his 
head five or six yards behind my horse's tail. To fire at it 
would be useless, for a bullet flattens against the adamantine 
skull of a buffalo bull. Inclining my body to the left, I 
turned my horse in that direction as sharply as his speed would 
permit. The bull, rushing blindly on with great force and 
weight, did not turn so quickly. As I looked back, his neck 
and shoulders were exposed to view; turning in the saddle, 
I shot a bullet through them obliquely into his vitals. He 
gave over the chase and soon fell to the ground. An English 
tourist represents a situation like this as one of imminent 
danger; this is a great mistake; the bull never pursues long, 
and the horse must be wretched indeed that cannot keep out 
of his way for two or three minutes. 

We were now come to a part of the country where we 
were bound in common prudence to use every possible pre- 



390 The Oregon Trail 

caution. We mounted guard at night, each man standing 
in his turn ; and no one ever slept without drawing his rifle 
close to his side or folding it with him in his blanket. One 
morning our vigilance was stimulated by our finding traces 
of a large Comanche encampment. Fortunately for us, how- 
ever, it had been abandoned nearly a week. On the next 
evening we found the ashes of a recent fire, which gave us at 
the time some uneasiness. At length we reached the Caches, 
a place of dangerous repute; and it had a most dangerous 
appearance, consisting of sand-hills everywhere broken by 
ravines and deep chasms. Here we found the grave of Swan, 
killed at this place, probably by the Pawnees, two or three 
weeks before. His remains, more than once violated by the 
Indians and the wolves, w^ere suffered at length to remain 
undisturbed in their wild burial place. 

For several days we met detached companies of Price's 
regiment. Horses would often break loose at night from their 
camps. One afternoon we picked up three of these stragglers 
quietly grazing along the river. After we came to camp that 
evening, Jim Gurney brought news that more of them were 
in sight. It was nearly dark, and a cold, drizzling rain had 
set in ; but we all turned out, and aft^r an hour's chase nine 
horses were caught and brought in. One of them was equip- 
ped with saddle and bridle; pistols w^ere hanging at the pom- 
mel of the saddle, a carbine was slung at its side, and a blan- 
ket rolled up behind it. In the morning, glorying in our valu- 
able prize, we resum.ed our journej^, and our cavalcade pre- 
sented a much more imposing appearance than ever before. 
We kept on till the afternoon, when, far behind, three horse- 
men appeared on the horizon. Coming on at a hand-gallop, 
they soon overtook us, and claimed all the horses as belong- 
ing to themselves and others of their company. They were 
of course given up, very much to the mortification of Ellis 
and Jim Gurney. 

Our own horses now showed signs of fatigue, and we 



Down the Arkansas 391 

resolved to give them half a day's rest. We stopped at noon 
at a grassy spot by the river. After dinner Shaw and Henry 
went out to hunt ; and w^hile the men lounged about the camp, 
I lay down to read in the shadow of the cart. Looking up, 
I saw a bull grazing alone on the prairie more than a mile 
distant. I was tired of reading, and taking my rifle I walked 
toward him. As I came near, I crawled upon the ^'Tound 
until I approached to within a hundred yards; here I sat down 
upon the grass and waited till he should turn himself into a 
proper position to receive his death-wound. He was a grim 
old veteran. His loves and his battles were over for that sea- 
son, and' now, gaunt and war-worn, he had withdraw^n from 
the herd to graze by himself and recruit his exhausted 
strength. He was miserably emaciated ; his mane was all in 
tatters; his hide was bare and rough as an elephant's, and 
covered with dried patches of the mud in which he had been 
wallowing. He showed all his ribs whenever he moved. He 
looked like some grizzly old ruffian grown gray in blood and 
violence, and scowling on all the world from his misanthropic 
seclusion. The old savage looked up when I first approached, 
and gave me a fierce stare ; then he fell to grazing again with 
an air of contemptuous indifference. The moment after, as if 
suddenly recollecting himself, he threw up his head, faced 
quickly about, and to my amazement came at a rapid trot 
directly toward me. I w^as strongly impelled to get up and 
run, but this would have been very dangerous. Sitting quite 
still, I aimed, as he came on, at a thin part of the skull above 
the nose. After he had passed over about three-quarters of the 
distance between us, I was on the point of firing, w^hen, to my 
great satisfaction, he stopped short. I had full opportunity of 
studying his countenance ; his whole front was covered with a 
huge mass of coarse matted hair, which hung so low that noth- 
ing but his two fore feet w^ere visible beneath it; his short 
thick horns were blunted and split to the very roots in his 
various battles, and across his /lose and forehead were two or 



392 The Oregon Trail 

three large white scars, which gave him a grim and at the 
same time a whimsical appearance. It seemed to me that he 
stood there motionless for a full quarter of an hour, looking 
at me through the tangled locks of his mane. For my part, I 
remained as quiet as he, and looked quite as hard; I felt 
greatly inclined to come to terms with him. "My friend," 
thought I, "if you'll let me oiiF, I'll let you off." At length 
he seemed to have abandoned any hostile design. Very 
slowly and deliberately he began to turn about; little by little 
his side came into view, all beplastered with mud. It was a 
tempting sight. I forgot my prudent intentions, and fired my 
rifle ; a pistol would have served at that distance. Round 
spun the old bull like a top, and away he galloped over the 
prairie. He ran some distance, and even ascended a consider- 
able hill, before he lay down and died. After shooting another 
bull among the hills, I went back to camp. 

At noon, on the fourteenth of September, a very large 
Santa Fe caravan came up. The plain was covered with the 
long files of their white-topped wagons, the close black car- 
riages in w^hich the traders travel and sleep, large droves of 
animals, and men on horseback and on foot. They all stopped 
on the meadow near us. Our diminutive cart and handful of 
men made but an insignificant figure by the side of their wide 
and bustling camp. Tete Rouge went over to visit them, and 
soon came back with half a dozen biscuits in one hand and 
a bottle of brandy in the other. I inquired where he got them. 
"Oh," said Tete Rouge, "I know some of the traders. Dr. 
Dobbs is there besides." I asked who Dr. Dobbs might be. 
"One of our St. Louis doctors," replied Tete Rouge. For 
two days past I had been severely attacked by the same disor- 
der which had so greatly reduced my strength when at the 
mountains; at this time I was suffering not a little from the 
sudden pain and weakness which it occasioned. Tete Rouge, 
in answer to my inquiries, declared that Dr. Dobbs was a 
physician of the first standing. Without at all believing him 



Down the Arkansas 393 

1 resolved to consult this eminent practitioner. Walking over 
to the camp, I found him lying sound asleep under one of the 
wagons. He offered in his own person but an indifferent 
specimen of his ski.U, for it was five months since I had seen 
so cadaverous a face. His hat had fallen off, and his yellow 
hair was all in disorder; one of his arms supplied the place of 
a pillow; his pantaloons were wrinkled half way up to his 
knees, and he was covered with little bits of grass and straw 
upon which he had rolled in his uneasy slumber. A Mexican 
stood near, and I made him a sign that he should touch the 
doctor. Up sprang the learned Dobbs, and, sitting upright, 
rubbed his eyes and looked about him in great bewilderment. 
I regretted the necessity of disturbing him, and said I had 
come to ask professional advice. "Your system, sir, is in a 
disordered state," said he solemnly, after a short examina- 
tion. 

I inquired what might be the particular species of dis- 
order. 

*' Evidently a morbid action of the liver," replied the medi- 
cal man; "I will give you a prescription." 

Repairing to the back of one of the covered wagons, he 
scrambled in; for a moment I could see nothing of him but 
his boots. At length he produced a box which he had 
extracted from some dark recess within, and opening it, he 
presented me with a folded paper of some size. ''What is it?" 
said I. "Calomel," said the doctor. 

Under the circumstances I would have taken almost any- 
thing. There was not enough to do me much harm, and it 
might possibly do good ; so at camp that night I took the poi- 
son instead of supper. 

That camp is worthy of notice. The traders warned us 
not to follow the main trail along the river, ''unless," as one 
of them observed, "you want to have your throats cut!" 
The river at this place makes a bend ;* and a smaller trail, 

^From the present Dodge City to Lamed, Kansas. The region between these 
points and about the Pawnee Foik was one of the most dangerous sections of 
tlie Santa F6 trail. 



394 The Oregon Trail 

known as the Ridge-path, leads directly across the praine 
from point to point, a distance of sixty or seventy miles. 

We followed this trail, and after traveling seven or eight 
miles we came to a small stream., where we encamped. Our 
position was not chosen with much forethought or military 
•kill. The water was in a deep hollow, with steep, high 
banks; on the grassy bottom of this hollow we picketed our 
horses, while we ourselves encamped upon the barren prairie 
just above. The opportunity was admirable either for driv- 
ing off our horses or attacking us. After dark, as Tete 
Rouge was sitting at supper, we observed him pointing with 
a face of speechless horror over the shoulder of Henry, who 
was opposite to him. Aloof amid the darkness appeared a 
gigantic black apparition ; solemnly swaying to and fro, it 
advanced steadily upon us. Henry, half vexed and half 
amused, jumped up, spread out his arms, and shouted. The 
invader was an old buffalo bull, who, with characteristic 
stupidity, was walking directly into camp. It cost some 
shouting and swinging of hats before we could bring him 
first to a halt and then to a rapid retreat. 

That night the moon was full and bright; but as the 
black clouds chased rapidly over it, we were at one moment 
in light and at the next in darkness. As the evening 
advanced, a thunder-storm came up ; it struck us with such 
violence that the tent would have been blown over if we had 
not interposed the cart to break the force of the wind. At 
length it subsided to a steady rain. I lay awake through 
nearly the whole night, listening to its dull patter upon the 
canvas above. The moisture, w^hich filled the tent and 
trickled from everything in it, did not add to the comfort of 
the situation. About twelve o'clock Shaw went out to stand 
guard amid the rain and pitch darkness. Munroe, the most 
vigilant as well as one of the bravest among us, was also on 
the alert. When about two hours had passed, Shaw came 
silently in, and touching Henry, called him in a low quick 



Down the Arkansas 395 

voice to come out. "What is it?" I asked. "Indians, I 
believe," whispered Shaw^; "but lie still; I'll call you if 
there's a fight." 

He and Henry went out together. I took the cover from 
my rifle, put a fresh percussion cap upon it, and then, being 
in much pain, lay down again. In about five minutes Shaw 
came in again. "All right," he said, as he lay down to sleep. 
Henry was now standing guard in his place. He told me 
in the morning ^he particulars of the alarm." Munroe's 
watchful eye discovered some dark objects down in the hol- 
low, among the horses, like men creeping on all fours. 
Lying flat on their faces, he and Shaw crawled to the edge 
of the bank, and were soon convinced that what they saw 
were Indians. Shaw silently withdrew to call Henry, and 
they all lay watching in the same position. Henry's eye is 
one of the best on the prairie. He detected after a while the 
true nature of the moving objects; they were nothing but 
wolves creeping among the horses. 

It is very singular that when picketed near a camp horses 
seldom show any fear of such an intrusion. The wolves 
appear to have no other object than that of gnaw^ing the 
trail-ropes of raw-hide by which the animals are secured. 
Several times in the course of the journey my horse's trail- 
rope was bitten in two by these nocturnal visitors. 



CHAPTER XXVII 

THE SETTLEMENTS 

The next day was extremely hot, and we rode from 
morning till night without seeing a tree or a bush or a drop 
of water. Gur horses and mules suffered much more than 
we, but as sunset approached they pricked up their ears and 
mended their pace. Water was not far off. When we 
came to the descent of the broad shallow valley where it lay, 
an unlooked-for sight awaited us. The stream glistened at 
the bottom, and along its banks were pitched a multitude of 
tents, while hundreds of cattle were feeding over the mead- 
ows. Bodies of troops, both horse and foot, and long trains 
of wagons w^ith men, women, and children, were moving 
over the opposite ridge and descending the broad declivity 
in front. These were the Mormon battalion in the service 
of government,^ together with a considerable number of 
Missouri volunteers. The Mormons were to be paid off in 
California, and they were allowed to bring with them their 
families and property. There was something very striking 
in the half-military, half-patriarchal appearance of these 
armed fanatics, thus on their way with their wives and 
children to found, it might be, a Mormon empire in Cali- 
fornia. We were much more astonished than pleased at the 
sight before us. In order to find an unoccupied camping 
ground, we were obliged to pass a quarter of a mile up the 
stream, and here we were soon beset by a swarm of Mor- 
mons and Missourians. The United States officer in com- 

'In June, 1846, Col. Stephen W. Kearny, in command of the forces organized 
at Fort Leavenworth, was authorized to muster in as volunteers a limited number 
of Mormons, a large body of whom were then on the way to California. Five 
hundred were enlisted en the terms stated in the text. 

^^6 



The Settlements 397 

mand of the whole came also to visit us, and remained some 
time at our camp. 

In the morning the country was covered with mist. We 
were always early risers, but before we were ready the voices 
of men driving in the cattle sounded all around us. As we 
passed above their camp, we saw through the obscurity that 
the tents were falling and the ranks rapidly forming ; and 
mingled with the cries of women and children, the rolling of 
the Mormon drums and the clear blast of their trumpets 
sounded through the mist. 

From that time to the journey's end, we met almost 
every day long trains of government wagons, laden with 
stores for the troops and crawling at a snail's pace toward 
Santa Fe. 

Tete Rouge had a mortal antipathy to danger, but on a 
foraging expedition one evening he achieved an adventure 
more perilous than had yet befallen any man in the party. 
The night after we left the Ridge-path we encamped close 
to the river. At sunset we saw a train of wagons encamping 
on the trail about three miles off; and though we saw them 
distinctly, our little cart, as it afterward proved, entirely 
escaped their view. For some days Tete Rouge had been long- 
ing eagerly after a dram of whisky. So, resolving to improve 
the present opportunity, he mounted his horse James, slung his 
canteen over his shoulder, and set forth in search of hi? 
favorite liquor. Some hours passed without his returninp* 
We thought he was lost, or perhaps that some stray Indiar: 
had snapped him up. While the rest fell asleep I remained 
on guard. Late at night a tremulous voice saluted me frorr 
the darkness, and Tete Rouge and James soon became visible, 
advancing toward the camp. Tete Rouge -was in much agita- 
tion and big with some important tidings. Sitting down on 
the shaft of the cart, he told the following story: 

When he left the camp he had no idea, he said, how late 
it was. By the time he approached the wagoners it was per- 



398 The Oregon Trail 

fectly dark; and as he saw them all sitting around their fires 
within the circle of wagons, their guns laid by their sides, he 
thought that he might as well give warning of his approach, 
in order to prevent a disagreeable mistake. Raising his voice 
to the highest pitch, he screamed out in prolonged accents, 
*'Camp, ahoy!" This eccentric salutation produced anything 
but the desired result. Hearing such hideous sounds pro- 
ceeding from the outer darkness, the wagoners thought that 
the whole Pawnee nation were about to break in and take 
their scalps. Up they sprang staring with terror. Each man 
snatched his gun ; some stood behind the wagons ; some threw 
themselves flat on the ground, and in an instant twenty 
cocked muskets were leveled full at the horrified Tete Rouge, 
who just then began to be visible through the darkness. 

**Thar they come," cried the master wagoner, *'fire, fire! 
shoot that feller." 

*'No, no!" screamed Tete Rouge, in an ecstasy of fright; 
"don't fire, don't! I'm a friend, I'm an American citizen!" 

"You're a friend, be you?" cried a gruff voice from the 
wagons, "then what are you yelling out thar for like a wild 
Injun? Come along up here if you're a man." 

"Keep your guns p'inted at him," added the master 
wagoner, "maybe he's a decoy, like." 

Tete Rouge in utter bewilderment made his approach, 
with the gaping muzzles of the muskets still before his eyes. 
He succeeded at last in explaining his character and situation, 
and the Missourians admitted him into camp. He got no 
whisky; but as he represented himself as a great invalid, and 
suffering much from coarse fare, they made up a contribu- 
tion for him of rice, biscuit, and sugar from their own rations. 

In the morning at breakfast, Tete Rouge once more 
related this story. We hardly knew how much of it to 
believe, though after some cross-questioning we failed to dis- 
cover any flaw in the narrative. Passing by the wagoner's 



The Settlements 399 

camp, they confirmed Tete Rouge's account in every par- 
ticular. 

"I wouldn't have been in that feller's place," said one 
of them, "for the biggest heap of money in Missouri." 

To Tete Rouge's great wrath they expressed a firm con- 
viction that he was crazy. We left them after giving them 
the advice not to trouble themselves about war-whoops in 
future, since they would be apt to feel an Indian's arrow" 
before they heard his voice. 

A day or two after, we had an adventure of another 
sort with a party of wagoners. Henry and I rode forward 
to hunt. After that day there was no probability that we 
should meet with buffalo, and we were anxious to kill one 
for the sake of fresh meat. They were so wild that we 
hunted all the morning in vain, but at noon as we approached 
Cow Creek we saw a large band feeding near its margin. Cow 
Creek is densely lined with trees which intercept the 
view beyond, and it runs, as we afterward found, at the 
bottom of a deep trench. We approached by riding along 
the bottom of a ravine. When we were near enough, I 
held the horses while Henry crept toward the buflfalo. I 
saw him take his seat within shooting distance, prepare his 
rifle, and look about to select his victim. The death of a 
fat cow was certain, when suddenly a great smoke arose 
from the bed of the Creek w^ith a rattling volley of mus- 
ketry. A score of long-legged Missourians leaped out from 
among the trees and ran after the buffalo, who one and 
all took to their heels and vanished. These fellows had 
crawled up the bed of the Creek to within a hundred yards 
of the buffalo. Never was there a fairer chance for a shot. 
They were good marksmen ; all cracked away at once, and 
yet not a buffalo fell. In fact the animal is so tenacious 
of life that it requires no little knowledge of anatomy to 
kill it, and it is very seldom that a novice succeeds in his 
first attempt at approaching. The balked Missourians were 



400 The Oregon Trail 

excessively mortifiecl, especially when Henry told them that 
if they had kept quiet he would have killed meat enough in 
ten minutes to feed their whole party. Our friends, who were 
at no great distance, hearing such a formidable fusillade, 
thought the Indians had fired the volley for our benefit. 
Shaw cam.e galloping on to reconnoiter and learn if we 
were yet in the land of the living. 

At Cow Creek we found the very welcome novelty of 
ripe grapes and plums, which grew there in abundance. At 
the Little Arkansas, not much farther on, we saw the last 
buffalo, a miserable old bull, roaming over the prairie alone 
and melancholy. 

From this time forward the character of the country 
was changing every day. We had left behind us the great 
arid deserts, meagerly covered by the tufted buffalo grass, 
with its pale green hue and its short shriveled blades. The 
plains before us were carpeted with rich and verdant herbage 
sprinkled with flowers. In place of buffalo we found plenty 
of prairie hens, and we bagged them by dozens without leav- 
ing the trail. In three or four days we saw before us the 
broad woods and the emerald meadows of Council Grove,^ 
a scene of striking luxuriance and beauty. It seemed like 
a new sensation as we rode beneath the resounding arches of 
these noble woods. The trees were ash, oak, elm, maple, 
and hickory, their mighty limbs deeply overshadowing the 
path, while enormous grape vines were entwined among 
them, purple with fruit. The shouts of our scattered party, 
and now and then a report of a rifle, rang amid the breath- 
ing stillness of the forest. We rode forth again with regret 
into the broad light of the open prairie. Little more than 
a hundred miles now separated us from the frontier settle- 
ments. The whole intervening country was a succession of 
verdant prairies, rising in broad swells and relieved by trees 
clustering like an oasis around som.e spring, or following 

^The principal stopping point on the Santa F€ trail in Kansas. 



The Settlements 401 

the course of a stream along some fertile hollow. These 
are the prairies of the poet and the rtovelist. We had left 
danger behind us. Nothing was to be feared from the Indians 
of this region, the Sauk and Foxes, the Kansas and the 
Osages. We had met with signal good fortune. Although 
for five months we had been traveling with an insufficient 
force through a country where we were at any moment 
liable to depredation, not a single animal had been stolen 
from us, and our only loss had been one old mule bitten to 
death by a rattlesnake. Three weeks after we reached the 
frontier the Pawnees and the Comanches began a regular 
series of hostilities on the Arkansas trail, killing men and 
driving off horses. They attacked, without exception, every 
party, large or small, that passed during the next six months. 

Diamond Spring,^ Rock Creek,^ Elder Grove, and other 
camping places besides, were passed all in quick succession. 
At Rock Creek we found a train of government provision 
wagons, under the charge of an emaciated old man in his 
seventy-first year. Some restless American devil had driven 
him into the wilderness at a time when he should have been 
seated at his fireside w^ith his grand-children on his knees. 
I am convinced that he never returned ; he was complaining 
that night of a disease, the wasting effects of which upon 
a younger and stronger man I myself had proved from 
severe experience. Long ere this no doubt the wolves have 
howled their moonlight carnival over the old man's attenu- 
ated remains. 

Not long after we came to a small trail leading to 
Fort Leavenworth, distant but one day's journey. Tete 
Rouge here took leave of us. He was anxious to go to the 
fort in order to receive payment for his valuable military 
services. So he and his horse James, after bidding an affec- 
tionate farewell, set out together, taking with them as much 

lAbout five miles north of the present Diamond Springs, Morris County, 
Kansas. 

Hn Morris County, Kansas. 



402 The Oregon Trail 

provision as they could conveniently carry, including a large 
quantity of brown sugar. On a cheerless rainy evening we 
came to our last encamping ground. Some pigs belonging 
to a Shawnee farmer were grunting and rooting at the edge 
of the grove. 

"I wonder how fresh pork tastes," murmured one of the 
party, and more than one voice murmured in response. The 
fiat wTnt forth, ''That pig must die," and a rifle was leveled 
forthwith at the countenance of the plumpest porker. Just 
then a wagon train, with some twenty Missourians, came out 
from among the trees. The marksman suspended his aim, 
deeming it inexpedient under the circumstances to consum- 
mate the deed of blood. 

In the morning we made our toilet as well as circum- 
stances w^ould permit, and that is saying but very little. In 
spite of the dreary rain of yesterday, there never was a 
brighter and gayer autumnal morning than that on which 
w^e returned to the settlements. We were passing through 
the country of the half-civilized Shawnees. It was a beau- 
tiful alternation of fertile plains and groves, whose foliage 
was just tinged with the hues of autumn, while close beneath 
them rested the neat log-houses of the Indian farmers. Every 
field and meadow bespoke the exuberant fertility of the soil. 
The maize stood rustling in the wind, matured and dry, its 
shining yellow ears thrust out between the gaping husks. 
Squashes and enormous 3ellow pumpkins lay basking in the 
sun in the midst of their brown and shriveled leaves. Robins 
and blackbirds flew about the fences ; and everything in short 
betokened our near approach to home and civilization. The 
forests that border on the Missouri soon rose before us, and 
we entered the wide tract of shrubbery which forms their 
outskirts. We had passed the same road on our outward 
journey in the spring, but its aspect was totally changed. 
The young wild apple-trees, then flushed with their fragrant 
blossoms, were now hunq; thickly with ruddy fruit. Tall 



The Settlements 403 

grass flourished by the roadside in place of the tender shoots 
just peeping from the warm and oozy soil. The vines were 
laden with dark purple grapes, and the slender twigs of the 
maple, then tasseled with their clusters of small red flowers, 
now hung out a gorgeous display of leaves stained by the 
frost with burning crimson. On every side we saw the 
tokens of maturity and decay where all had before been 
fresh and beautiful. We entered the forest, and ourselves 
and our horses were checkered, as we passed along, by the 
bright spots of sunlight that fell between the opening boughs. 
On either side the dark rich masses of foliage almost excluded 
the sun, though here and there its rays could find their way 
down, striking through the broad leaves and lighting them 
with a pure transparent green. Squirrels barked at us from 
the trees; coveys of young partridges ran rustling over the 
leaves below, and the golden oriole, the blue jay, and the 
flaming red-bird darted among the shadowy branches. We 
hailed these sights and sounds of beauty by no means with 
an unmingled pleasure. Many and powerful as were the 
attractions w^hich drew us toward the settlements, we looked 
back even at that moment with an eager longing toward the 
wilderness of prairies and mountains behind us. For myself, 
I had suffered more that summer from illness than ever 
before in. my life, and yet to this hour I cannot recall those 
savage scenes and savage men without a strong desire again 
to visit them. 

At length, for the first time during about half a year, we 
saw the roof of a white man's dwelling between the open- 
ing trees. A few moments after we were riding over the 
miserable log bridge that leads into the center of Westport. 
Westport had beheld strange scenes, but a rougher looking 
troop than ours, with our worn equipments and broken- 
down horses, was never seen even there. We passed the 
well-remembered tavern, Boone's grocery and old Vogel's 
dram shop, and encamped on a meadow beyond. Here we 



404 The Oregon Trail 

were soon visited by a number of people who came to pur- 
chase our horses and equipage. This matter disposed of, we 
hired a wagon and drove on to Kansas Landing. Here we 
were again received under the hospitable roof of our old 
friend Colonel Chick, and seated under his porch we looked 
down once more on the eddies of the Missouri. 

Deslauriers made his appearance in the morning, strangely 
transformed by the assistance of a hat, a coat, and a razor. 
His little log-house was among the woods not far oH. It 
seemed he had meditated giving a ball on the occasion of his 
return, and had consulted Henry Chatillon as to whether 
it would do to invite his bourgeois. Henry expressed his 
entire conviction that we would not take it amiss, and 
the invitation was now proffered accordingly, Deslauriers 
adding as a special inducement that Antoine Lajeunesse was 
to play the fiddle. We told him we would certainly come, 
but before the evening arrived a steamboat, which came down 
fromi Fort Leavenworth, prevented our being present at the 
expected festivities. Deslauriers was on the rock at the 
landing place, waiting to take leave of us. 

"Adieu! mes bourgeois; adieu! adieu!" he cried out as 
the boat put off; "when you go another time to de Rocky 
Montagnes I w^ill go with j^ou; yes, I will go!" 

He accompanied this patronizing assurance by jumping 
about, swinging his hat, and grinning from ear to ear. As 
the boat rounded a distant point, the last object that met our 
eyes was Deslauriers still lifting his hat and skipping about 
the rock. We had taken leave of Munroe and Jim Gurney 
at Westport, and Henry Chatillon went down in the boat 
with us. 

The passage to St. Louis occupied eight daj^s, during 
about a third of which time we were fast aground on sand- 
bars. We passed the steamer Amelia crowded with a roaring 
crew of disbanded volunteers, swearing, drinking, gambling, 
and fighting. At length on^ evening we reached the crowded 



The Settlements , 405 

levee of St. Louis. Repairing to the Planters" House,* we 
caused diligent search to be made for our trunks, which after 
some time were discovered stowed away in the farthest corner 
of the storeroom. In the morning we hardly recognized each 
other: a frock of broadcloth had supplanted the frock of 
buck-skin ; well-fitted pantaloons took the place of the Indian 
leggings, and polished boots were substituted for the gaudy 
moccasins. 

After we had been several daj^s at St. Louis we heard 
news of Tete Rouge. He had contrived to reach Fort 
Leavenworth, where he had found the paymaster and 
received his money. As a boat was just ready to start for 
St. Louis, he went on board and engaged his passage. This 
done, he immediately got drunk on shore, and the boat went 
off without him. It was some days before another oppor- 
tunity occurred, and meanwhile the sutler's stores furnished 
him with abundant means of keeping up his spirits. Another 
steamboat came at last, the clerk of which happened to be 
a friend of his, and by the advice of some charitable person 
on shore he persuaded Tete Rouge to remain on board, 
intending to detain him there until the boat should leave the 
fort. At first Tete Rouge was well contented with this 
arrangement, but on applying for a dram, the bar-keeper, at 
the clerk's instigation, refused to let him have it. Finding 
them both inflexible in spite of his entreaties, he became 
desperate and made his escape from the boat. The clerk 
found him after a long search in one of the barracks ; a circle 
of dragoons stood contemplating him as he lay on the floor, 
maudlin drunk and crying dismally. With the help of one 
of them the clerk pushed him on board, and our informant, 
who came down in the same boat, declares that he remained 
in great despondency during the whole passage. As we left 
St. Louis soon after his arrival, we did not see the worthless 
good-natured little vagabond again. 

* Then the principal hotel. 



406 The Oregon Trail 

On the evening before our departure Henr^^ Chatillon 
»:ame to our rooms at the Planters' House to take leave of 
MS. No one w^ho met him in the streets of St. Louis would 
have taken him for a hunter fresh from the Rocky Moun- 
tains. He was very neatly and simply dressed in a suit of 
dark cloth; for although, since his sixteenth year, he had 
scarcely been for a month together among the abodes of 
men, he had a native good taste and a sense of propriety 
which alwaj'S led him to pay great attention to his personal 
appearance. His tall athletic figure, with its easy flexible 
motions, appeared to advantage in his present dress; and his 
fine face, though roughened by a thousand storms, was not 
at all out of keeping with it. We took leave of him with 
much regret ; and unless his changing features, as he shook us 
by the hand, belied him, the feeling on his part was no less 
than on ours.* Shaw had given him a horse at Westport. 
My rifle, w^hich he had always been fond of using, as it was 
an excellent piece, much better than his own, is now in his 
hands, and perhaps at this moment its sharp voice is startling 
the echoes of the Rocky Mountains. On the next morning 
we left town, and after a fortnight of railroads and steam- 
boats we saw once more the familiar features of home. 

*I cannot take leave of the reader without adding a word of the guide 
who had served us throughout with such zeal and fidelity. Indeed his 
services had far surpassed the terms of his engagement. Yet whoever had 
been his employers, or to whatever closeness of intercourse they might have 
thought fit to admit him, he would never have changed the bearing of quiet 
respect which he considered due to his bourgeois. If sincerity and honor, a 
boundless generosity of spirit, a delicate regard to the feelings of others, and 
a nice perception of what was due to them, are the essential characteristics 
of a gentleman, then Henry Chatillon deserves the title. He could not write 
his own name, and he had spent his life among savages. In him sprang up 
spontaneously those qualities which all the refinements of life, and inter- 
course with the highest and best of the better part of mankind, fail to 
awaken in the brutish nature of some men. In spite of his bloody calling, 
Henry was always humane and merciful ; he was gentle as a woman, though 
braver than a lion. He acted aright from the free impulses of his large and 
generous nature. A certain species of selfishness is essential to the sternness 
of spirit which bears down opposition and subjects the will of others to its 
own. Henry's character was of an opposite stamp. His easy good-nature 
almost amounted to weakness; yet while it unfitted him for any position of 
command, it secured the esteem and good-will of all those who were not 
jealous of hi3 skill and reputation. — Author s note. 



APPENDIX 

(Adapted largely from the Teacher's Manual for the Study of 
English Classics, by George L. Marsh) 

HELPS TO STUDY 
Parkman and His Career 

What are the most important facts about' Parkman 's ancestry, 
early life, and education (p. 9) ? 

How early did he resolve upon his life work, and what methods 
did he adopt toward accomplishing it? Why did he undertake his 
Oregon journey (p. 10) ? 

Note in detail the conditions in the West when Parkman under- 
took this trip (pp. 10-12), What were the dangers of the under- 
taking? 

When was The Oregon Trail published (p. 13)? What were 
Parkman 's principal works that followed? Under what handicaps 
did he pursue his work? Note resemblances to any other authors 
(e. g., Stevenson). 

What is Parkman 's rank as a historian (p. 17) ? 

When and where did he die (p. 16) ? 

Perry Picture 2504 is a portrait of Parkman. 

The Oregon Trail 

Note the author's statement of his purpose (pp. 19, 139). Ex- 
plain the reference to Uncas. Who was Outalissi? Do you think 
the author accomplishes his purpose satisfactorily? In what ways, 
principally, was this book a preparation for the writer's historical 
works? 

Trace out, with maps, the course of the journey. How far west 
did the writer get? How far north? Note differences between his 
journey and a similar journey at the present time. 

407 



408 APPENDIX 

What reflections of contemporary history do you find in the 
book (e. g., pp. 313, 378, etc.) ? 

Note the personnel of Parkman's party. With whom did he 
travel during practically the whole time, and with what groups 
were different parts of the journey taken? 

What were the principal items in the equipment for the journey 
at different stages? The difficulties and hardships of the journey! 

Note examples of good description (pp. 30, 80, 84, 144, and in 
very many other places) ; of vivid narration (p. 98, etc.). 

Observe devices for securing interest and suspense (as on pp. 
123, 139, etc.). 

Note literary allusions (pp. 45, 148, 192, 298, 304, etc.) ; artistic 
allusions (p. 178), etc. Do these always seem in place, or do they 
ever have an air of showing off the knowledge and taste of a young 
writer? 

Examine with especial care Parkman 's treatment of the Indians. 
Compare his realistic treatment with Longfellow 's poetic treatment 
in Hiawatha, or with Cooper's treatment in The Last of the Mohi- 
cans. Specifically note a custom (p. 170) similar to one described 
by Longfellow, and compare the Indian speeches (pp. 223 ff.) with 
Indian speeches by Cooper. Particularly useful accumulations of 
details as to Indians and Indian life begin on pages 114, 125, 144, 
159, 166, etc. Note the superstitions described on pages 219, 
244, 259. 

What interesting theory as to the origin of the Indians is sug- 
gested (p. 159) ? 

To what extent has Parkman 's prophecy as to the future of the 
Indians (p. 215) been fulfilled? 

What do you think of Parkman's attitude toward the Indians? 
Is he hostile or friendly, or does he show any prejudice one way 
or another? Is he a careful, unbiased observer? Does he dis- 
criminate among the tribes of Indians, as to character? 

Make a list of the different kinds of animals encountered. To 
what kind is most attention given and why? What ways of hunt- 
ing buffaloes are described? To what extent are. buff aloes still 
found in the West? 

Make a list of the different kinds of people encountered during 
the trip (as Indians of various tribes, trappers, emigrants, etc.). 



APPENDIX 409 

To what extent are class characteristics shown? Are there many 
distinct portraits of individuals? Try to decide how many. Does 
Parkman show much of the novelist's interest in individual char- 
acter ? 

Do you find that the narrative flows along smoothly and clearly, 
or are there objectionable digressions? Specifically, has the first 
paragraph of Chap. XII a sufficiently vital relation with what 
follows? 

Did you find the book interesting? In what parts were you 
most interested? What do you consider its chief merits? Its 
chief defects (if you notice any) ? 

THEME SUBJECTS 

1. Parkman 's life (pp. 9-16). 

2. The difficulties under which he labored. 

3. A review of some other one of his books. 

4. The geography of The Oregon Trail. 

5. A present-day journey over Parkman 's route. 

6. The historical background of this book. 

7. Narrative themes on different portions of the journey; e. g., 
from Fort Leavenworth to Fort Laramie, Parkman with the Indian 
village, from Fort Laramie to Bent 's Fort, back to civilization, etc. 

8. Still more limited bits of narration on such subjects as the 
following : 

Pontiac's escape (p. 48). 

The attempt to have a swim (pp. 57 ff.). 

Parkman gives a feast (pp. 220 ff.). 

The story of Tete-Rouge (pp. 336 ff.). 
Many similar subjects may be chosen and students may be asked 
either to reproduce in their own words the matter from the book, 
or to write about similar incidents in their own experience (or 
imagined). 

9. Character sketches of people who are clearly portrayed ; for 
example : 

''E." (pp. 69, etc.). 
Henry Chatillon. 
''Tete-Rouge" (pp. 371, 372, etc.). 



410 APPENDIX 

10. Descriptive themes on such subjects as the following: 
A prairie dog village. 
An Indian lodge (pp. 134 ff,). 
In the Black Hills (pp. 270 ff.). 
An Indian village (pp. 346 ff.). 
A herd of buffaloes. 
Many similar small units for descriptive writing may be found 
and treated in either of the ways mentioned in 8 above. 



SELECTIONS FOR CLASS READING 

1. Parkman's party (pp. 30-32). 

2. The Kickapoo village (pp. 40-42). 

3. The joys of the Platte route (pp. 49-51). 

4. Taking a swim (pp. 57-59). 

5. A ''British snob" (pp. 67-70). 

6. In the Platte valley (pp. 83-86). 

7. A buffalo chase (pp. 96-101). 

8. ''Old Smoke's village" (pp. 113-17). 

9. In an Indian lodge (pp. 134-36). 

10. Indian burial customs (pp. 158-160). 

11. Indian tribal organization (pp. 166-69). 

12. Parkman sets out with but one attendant (pp. 194-99). 

13. A mountain scene (pp. 209, 210). 

14. Parkman gives a feast (pp. 220-25). 

15. How the Indians hunt the buffalo (pp. 231, 232, 238-43) 

16. Some Indian customs (pp. 249-53). 

17. The Black Hills (pp. 270-74). 

18. A glimpse of Indian superstition (pp. 284-86). 

19. Some mountain scenery (pp. 291-95). 

20. Animal life in the desert (pp. 317-23). 

21. The party homeward bound (pp. 340-42). 

22. The Arapahoe village (pp. 346-51). 

23. Buffalo hunting (pp. 52-54, 358-60, 366-68, 384-86). 

24. A character contrast (pp. 370-74). 

25. The return to civilization (pp. 396-404). 



CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE 

In the following parallel columns are given the most impor- 
tant dates in the history of English and American literature 
from the early part of the nineteenth century (Parkman was 
born in 1823) down to 1900. 



AMERICAN 

1815 Freneau : Poems. 



1817 Bryant : ThanatopsU. 



1819 

1820 

1821 

1822 
1823 

1824 

1825 

1826 
1827 



Drake : The American 
Flag. 

Irving: The Sketch Book. 
The Missouri Compromise. 



Cooper : 
Bryant 



The Spy. 
PoemrS. 



Irving : Bracehridge Hall. 

Payne : Home, Sweet 
Home. 

Cooper : The Pilot. 

Irving : Tales of a Trav- 
eler. 

Webster : The Bunker 
Hill Monument. 

Cooper : The Last of the 

Mohicans. 
P o e : Tamerlane and 

Other Poems. 



1831 Foe : Poems. 

1832 Irving : The Alham'bra. 
S: F. Smith : America. 

1833 Poe : MS. Found in a 

Bottle. 



1815 
1816 



1817 

1818 
1819 
1820 

1821 

1823 

1824 
1825 

1827 

1828 
1830 

1832 
1833 



BNGLISH 

The Battle of Waterloo. 
Byron : The Prisoner of 

Chillon; Childe Harold, 

III. 

Coleridge : Christabel. 

Keats : Poems (first col- 
lection). 

Byron : Childe Harold, 
IV. 

Scott : Ivanhoe. 

Keats : Poem^. 
Shelley : Prometheus Un- 
bound. 

Shelley : Adonais. 
De Quincey : Confessions 
of an Opium Eater. 

Scott : Quentin Durward. 
Lamb : Essays of Elia. 

Landor : Imaginary Con- 
versations. 

Macaulay : Essay on Mil- 
ton. 



A. and C. Tennyson : 
Poems by Two Broth- 
ers. 

Carlyle : Essay on Burns. 

Tennyson : Poems Chiefly 
Lyrical. 

Death of Scitt; The Re- 
form Bill. 

Carlyle : Sartor Resartus. 
Tennyson : Poems. 
Browning : Pauline. 



411 



412 



APPENDIX 



AMERICAN 

1836 Drake : The Culprit Fay, 
etc. 

1836 Holmes : Poems. 
Emerson : Nature. 

1837 Emerson : The American 

Scholar. 

Hawthorne : Twice-Told 
Tales, first series. 

"Whittier : Poems. 

1839 Poe : Tales of the Grotes- 

que and Arabesque. 

Longfellow : Voices of the 
Night. 

1840 Dana : Ttvo Years Before 

the Mast. 

1841 Emerson : Essays, first 

series. 

Longfellow : Ballads and 
Other Poems. 

1842 Hawthorne : Twice-Told 

Tales, second series. 



1843 Poe: The Oold-Bug. 

Prescott : Conquest of 
Mexico. 



1844 Emerson : Essays, second 

series. 

Lowell : Poems. 

1845 Poe : The Raven and 

Other Poems. 

1846 Hawthorne: Mosses from 

an Old Manse. 

1846-48 War with Mexico. 

1847 Emerson : Poems. 
Longfellow : Evangeline. 
Parkman : The Oregon 

Tradl. 

1848 Lowell : Vision of Sir 

Launfal. 

1849 Irving : Oliver Goldsnvith. 



1850 Emerson : Representative 
Men. 

Hawthorne : The Scarlet 
Letter^ 



■NGLISH 

1835 Browning: Paracelsus. 

1836 Dickens : Pickwick Pa 

pers. 

1837 Victoria became Queen. 

De Quincey : Revolt of 
the Tartars. 

C a r 1 y 1 e : The French 
Revolution. 



1840 Macaulay : Essay on 

Clive. 

1841 Browning : Pippa Passes. 

Macaulay : Essay on War- 
ren Hastings. 

1842 Macaulay : Lays of An- 

cient Rome. 

Browning : Dramatic 
Lyrics. 

1843 Dickens : A Christmas 

Carol. 

Macaulay : Essay on Ad- 
dison. 

Ruskin : Modem Painters, 
Vol. I. 

1844 E. B. Browning : Poems. 



1845 Browning : Dramatic Ro- 

mances and Lyrics. 

1846 Dickens : The Cricket on 

the Hearth. 



1847 



1848 
1849 



1850 



De Quincey 
Tennyson : 
Thackeray : 
C. Bronte : 

Macaulay : 
England, 
De Quincey 



: Joan of Arc. 
The Princess. 
Vanity Fair. 
Jane Eyre. 

History of 
I, II. 

The English 



Mail Coach 

M. Arnold : The Strayed 
Reveller, etc. 

Tennyson : In Memoriam. 
Dickens : David Copper- 
field. 



APPENDIX 



413 



AMERICAN 

1851 Hawthorne : The House 

of the Seven Oables. 

Parkman : The Conspir- 
acy of Pontiac. 

1852 Mrs. Stowe : Uncle Tom's 

Cabin. 



1854 Thoreau : Walden. 

1855 Longfellow : Hiawatha. 

Whitman : Leaves of 
Grass. 

1856 Motley: Rise of the Dutch 

Repuhlic. 

Curtis : Prue and I. 



1858 Longfellow : Courtship of 
Miles Standish. 

Holmes : Autocrat of the 
Breakfast Table. 



1861-65 The Civil War. 



1862-66 Lowell: Biglow Pa- 
pers, II. 

1863 Longfellow : Tales of a 
Wayside Inn. 



1865 Whitman : Drum Taps. 

1866 Whittier : Snow-Bound. 



1851 

1852 
1853 



1855 
1856 

1857 



1859 



1860 
1861 

1862 
1863 
1864 

1865 
1866 



BNGLISH 

Thackeray : Lectures on 
English Humorists. 

G. Meredith : Poems. 

Thackeray : Henry Es- 
mond. 

M. Arnold: Poems 
("Sohrab and Rustum," 
etc.). 

Mrs. Gaskell : Cranford. 



R. Browning : 
Women. 



Men and 



Maud. 
Essays on 



Tennyson 
Macaulay 
Johnson and Goldsmith. 

Mrs. Browning : Aurora 
Leigh. 

Hughes : Tom Brown's 
School Days. 



Tennyson 
King. 

Dickens : 
Cities. 

G. Eliot: 

Meredith 



Idylls of the 
A Tale of Two 



Adam Bede. 

Ordeal of 
Richard Feverel. 

Darwin : The Origin of 

Species. 

G. Eliot: The Mill on 
the Floss. 

G. Eliot : Silas Marner. 
Reade : The Cloister and 
the Hearth. 

Pal grave : The Golden 
Treasury. 

Meredith : Modern Love, 
etc. 

G. Eliot : Romola. 

Browning : Dramatis Per- 
sons. 

Swinburne : Atalanta in 
Calydon. 

R u s k i n : Sesame and 
Lilies. 

Ruskin : A Crown of WUd 
Olive. 



414 



APPENDIX 



AMERICAN 

1868 Hale : The Man Without 
a Country, etc. 



1870 Bret Harte : The Luck 

of Roaring Camp, etc. 

1871 Howells : Their Wedding 

Journey. 



1873 Aldrich : Marjorie Daw, 
etc. 

1876 Mark Twain : Tom Saw- 

yer. 

1877 Lanier : Poems. 



1879 Cable: Old Creole Days. 
Stockton : Rudder Grange. 



1881 Whittier : 
Missive. 



The King's 



1886 ^^IfcJackson : Sonnets and 

^Lyrics. 

1887 M. E. Wilkins : A Humhle 

Romance, etc. 



1888 Whitman: 
Boughs. 



Nove-mher 



1890 E, Dickinson : Poems, 

first series. 

1891 Whitman : Ooodhye, My 

Fancy. 



1898 War with Spain. 



ENGLISH 

1868 Browning: The Ring and 

the Book. 

1868-70 Morris : The Earthly 
Paradise. 

1869 Tennyson : The H oly 

Grail, etc. 

1870 D. G. Rossetti: Poems. 

1871 Swinburne : Songs Before 

Sunrise. 

1872 Tennyson : Gareth anc 

Lynette, etc. 

1873 Arnold : Literature and 

Dogma. 

1876 Morris : Siaurd the Vol 
sung. 

1878 Stevenson : An Inland 

Voyage. 

1879 Stevenson : Travels^u>ith 

a Donkey. 

Meredith : The Egoist. 

1881 D. G. Rossetti : Ballads 

and Sonnets. 

1882 Stevenson : New AraMan 

Nights. 

1883 Stevenson '. Treasure Is- 

land. 

1886 Stevenson : Kidnapped. 

1887 Stevenson : The Merry 

Men ( "M a r k h e i m," 
etc.). -^ 

1888 Kipling: Plain Tales 

from the Hills. 

Barrier Auld Licht 
Idylls. 

1889 Browning : Asolando. 



1891 Kipling: Life's Handi- 

cap. 

1892 Tennyson died. 

1893 Conington : Translation 

of Aencid published. 

Barrie : Two of Them. 
1901 Queen Victoria died. 



y 



Hl5^ 



89 














o 




c 





^ ♦ • . ' ^0 '^^ * r / 1 • ^^^ O^ ♦ • . ' ^O 



o ' 




* A <. *'7VV' .G^ \3, ' 



-ov*' : 






^^'\ 


















• o 













«* •^^ .-^ ♦ 




-^^^<^/^.•« t^ «. >-J<W^f^«» V^ ^-^•^ »'^iC « 

kV O * 

: ^^-^^ :, 

* ^ • ^S^^ \ oy 














o » * 



HECKMAN 

BINDERY INC. 




^OCT 89 



N. MANCHESTER, 
=^S^ INDIANA 46962 



^ • K -,u 







>^ .,. 



j^9 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




016 099 774 6 



